Up, About, and Very Confused
by Wind of the Dawn
Summary: When Sam woke up in the morning with a cracking headache, he certainly didn't expect to see Starscream's face looking down at him. Now, if only he could figure out what was going on. Slash. ?xSam
1. Not Your Average Morning

Disclaimer: Transformers, anything to do with it, and any other characters mentioned in this story do not belong to me in any shape or form. This story is not written or used in any commercial purposes.

By: Wind of the Dawn

Chapter 1 Not your Average Morning

Little word before the beginning: Well, this is a really sudden plot that popped up for me and I just could not resist writing it... Hope you guys enjoy it.

Warnings: Extreme crack, language, slash, and some ooc abound. If you don't like it, then please don't read it.

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><p><em>Morning did not agree with Sam.<em>

When Sam woke up groaning in the bright early morning, with the sweet (annoying) sunshine and the soft (loud) trills of the feathery life forms of earth singing next to his ears, he had expected to open his well-rested (still tired) eyes to the pleasing (dull) ceiling of his tidy (messy) room. What he didn't expect, was the ever leering face of a certain screechy Decepticon smiling (scowling) blindingly at him from what used to be his ceiling, as tiny pieces of broken concrete rained down into his room like projectiles.

Mind instantly jumping from dead tired to hazy awake instantly, Sam utilized a sideways barrel roll and dived off his bed, screeching wildly as he did so. "Starscream!"

"Yes, boy, Starscream," The mech snarked, disdain coating his every word as he squeezed out words in attempt of a civil conversation "It pleases me so much that you remember my name from our previous encounters. Now, would you get dressed and come with me?"

Mind still in reboot mode, Sam stared in blank horror at the towering seeker, completely bypassing whatever the mech had said. It was still too early in the morning for him to deal with this kind of shit. Couldn't they wait until he got his morning coffee or something? What was with the hole in the roof anyway? Didn't they know that renovation and repair fees were sky high these few days? _And where was Bumblebee_?

"Oh god, you killed him didn't you?" Sam rasped out, morning had never agreed with him and his mind was still going off in tangents.

Starscream stared at him in confusion, where did this sudden leap in conversation come from? "What?"

Looking out his cracked windows at the yard of his parent's pride and joy, Sam searched for the constant yellow presence that should have been there, waving his trusty cannons at the menacing seeker perched on his roof, threatening his charge with a too bright leer and a lack of caffeine. When he didn't see any such sights, Sam despaired. Yes, Bumblebee must have been destroyed by the posing mech above him; why else would he not notice the groaning noises the house made under the additional stress and the bulk of an extremely heavy lump of metal moving about on his roof, punching holes wherever he pleased?

Unless, of course, for some reason the scout had lost his audio and scanning systems overnight. Which didn't make sense.

Fraggit, the entire situation didn't make sense anyway. It was too early to think.

"You killed him. I can't believe you killed him." Dropping down onto his pyjama clad knees, Sam moaned in agony. His guardian, destroyed by this flying object while valiantly trying to protect his charge, and said charge was just sleeping his life away while Bumblebee _died _to protect him! The angst! What woe! He _needed his coffee_.

"Boy, you are making no sense."

"Stop," Sam beseeched with his hand raised above him at the sun reflecting robot, telling him both to shut up and angle himself to stop making himself sparkle with the sunlight at the same time "I must grieve for my friend." The other hand rising to cup his aching head in his palm, Sam dropped his head down and drooped into sadness.

Why was his head aching so badly like he had just been run over by an elephant?

From above him, Starscream watched the human proceed with his eccentric antics and resisted the urge to just _squish_ the little insect. Of all mechs, why was he the one who had to fetch the little brat? Growling loudly at the nonsensical mumbling the boy was emitting while scrunched up on the debris littered floor, he poked the human lightly with one spindly finger.

Of course, lightly for Cybertronian was a full on sucker punch for a human; hence when Sam actually felt the bone bruising force poke him on his already tender backside, he was sent flying across his room into the pile of dirty laundry he stashed near his door. Head cracking against the door with a loud sound, Sam yowled out loud. _What the fuck was wrong with these people and violence?_

Wholly unconcerned with any potential damage to the humans already messed up mental and physical status, Starscream leered down at the boy. He didn't have time to deal with this sort of nonsense, and by Primus he wasn't going to take anymore of this ridiculous situation. He was as busy as it was. Leaning further down into the room, ignoring the rapidly tumbling concrete and iron that bent under his weight, Starscream grasped the protesting human in one edgy hand and lifted him out of the room. Forget changing and giving the human time to complete his morning ritual, if he had to continue dealing with this kind of lunacy they would accomplish nothing for a very long time.

Jumping down from the roof onto the fine green grass ("Nooooooo" Sam screeched, his father's _lawn_!), Starscream marched onto the deserted street, ignoring any passer-by's that might have seen him. Revving his flight systems, he dropped the human and transformed into his alt form right underneath him, catching the puny human perfectly in his cockpit while Sam waved his arms around frantically and called for the revenge of his parental unit's lawn.

"You killed Bumblebee and now you're gunning for dad's _lawn_?" he questioned hysterically, completely skewering his priorities and defying the expected character reaction that he was supposed to exhibit. "Are you _insane_?"

Rapidly tiring of the human's unexplainable behaviour for the day, Starscream just lashed the boy down securely with his seatbelt and proceeded to drive down the empty road for take off. Funny how he wasn't shrieking about being taken away. And what was that about him killing the yellow bug anyway? He hadn't even _seen_ the slagger since the week before!

"Oi, answer me! Is this a conspiracy?"

Snarling at the human that had now started to rap on his sensitive dashboard, Starscream flashed his internal lighting systems brightly, earning a satisfying squawk from Sam as he clawed at his eyes to get rid of the blinding spots. What conspiracy? Was the human inhibited? And on such a day? What irresponsible behaviour!

"Sam," Audio systems straining at the pure agony it was to refer to a squishy as an equal, Starscream counted to three and started trying to drag the human down from his delusional cloud "This is not a conspiracy, and neither have I harmed your previous guardian."

Incensed and enraged over the pure atrocity that was his wake up call, Sam continued to muddle his way through his wild questioning and accusations, ignoring the bits that he really should have taken notice of. "Not a conspiracy? Then why did you destroy the garden again? Fess up Starscream! Every Cybertronian that comes here always destroys the garden at one point or another. If that isn't a conspiracy, what is!"

Garden? He was now raving over a _garden_? Starscream was starting to think that there was something seriously wrong with the human today. Immediately browsing through the internet for delusional symptoms and erratic behaviour (he didn't want to get blamed for any happenings on the human while he was in his care), he flipped through the results efficiently and searched for the potential cause of his current charge's funny behaviour. When he reached one of the much visited results, he raised an optic internally. _Ah_, he thought in enlightment, _so this is why he is acting so eccentrically_.

Suddenly feeling a small, _small_, rush of fondness for the fragile human ranting within him, Starscream soothed Sam with a burst of bright classical music from his audio systems (pre-built within by a certain mech's insistence so that the human wouldn't be bored on his journey). His behaviour was perfectly understandable right now. In fact, Starscream was surprised with himself in how he had actually skipped over the most reasonable reason to the boy's unexplainable doings. For shame, how many mech's had he seen acting like this before! He should have expected such behaviour on this day.

Paying no attention to the increasing loud insults within his cockpit as Sam protested fervently against the choice of music and how Starscream was completely ignoring him, Starscream continued his journey to a safe spot he could take off at. How illogical, he was getting strangely excited as well. And he wasn't even connected to the main event itself! Then again, it had been so many millenniums since such a ceremony had been performed, and in Cybertronian tradition as well! Sure, they had to consent to a couple of changes within the event itself for the sake of certain parties, but still, a real live one to be held right in front of him! The Autobots would be so jealous.

Laughing evilly over the angst and sadness that his enemies would no doubt feel and scaring Sam several metres past the side in process, Starscream turned his alt mode around on the narrow street and got his wing stuck in a tree for his trouble. Grumbling over the sheer nerve of the organic flora messing up his alt form and tempo, he fired a point black cannon blast at the tree amidst Sam's horrified shrieks. It was at that moment that he felt that he may have found an unexpected companion in the boy; after all, he was capable of screeching and shrieking just as shrilly as he could, and wasn't that surprising.

Gunning his engines with renewed optimism, which the Autobots would no doubt lack once the ceremony was completed, Starscream aimed for the sky and prepared for lift-off.

It was also at that moment that Sam finally snapped out of his coffee haze and finally noticed that, oh, he was being taken away against his will.

Starting his feeble assaults against the missile proof glass, he screamed out a loud "BUMBLEBEE!", looking around wildly for the familiar sight of his yellow guardian. _Where was he_?

When he didn't show up even after Sam's wild pleading of "Please save me I promise I won't eat so much junk food anymore" and "I'll do my homework. I swear!", Sam felt his heart splinter into tiny tiny pieces. There was no hope for him. Resigned and slumping against the surprisingly comfortable contour of Starscream's single seat (The Decepticon was still basking in victory, happiness, and whatever he felt most of the time), Sam pleaded for intervention.

And lo and behold, apparently Primus felt charitable that day, because from the distance a familiar figure approached.

Triumphant trumpets flared and Sam's heart leaped with joy, he was saved! Then, it immediately took a pit fall when he saw that the familiar figure was, in fact, his mother. Face going through a mirage of interesting colours with less time it took you to say "Oh shit!", Sam gestured wildly at his approaching female parental unit, telling her to avoid the large F-22 perched on the street and please ignore the familiar lunatic seated within it. Alas, his telepathic attempts were a failure, and instead of retreating Judy Witwicky smiled brightly and approached the Jet with much vigour.

Attempting to do some damage control before his mother came within reach of the homicidal jet, Sam opened his mouth widely and started to talk to the dashboard, certain that if the neighbours ever saw him in this situation he would _never_ live the end of it. "Starscream, look, I'll do anything you want. Just _please don't hurt my mom_."

Silence reigned in the cockpit like a giant balloon, threatening Sam with a sure to be loud 'Boom' if the Decepticon decided that he didn't like Sam's proposition at all. Closing his eyes tightly, Sam pleaded hard that the mech would accept his request and leave his mom alone. Pleaded that he wouldn't say -

"That is ridiculous, why would I hurt her?"

Yes, that. It was all over now, and it was all his fault. Sam would never be able to face the world again ... Wait, what?

Mind doing the mental equivalent of a fast paced backtrack, Sam ogled at the Jet. Did he just say that he wouldn't hurt his mom? That was... that was... so out of character for the normally volatile mech! Wasn't he supposed to go on a rampage now and delight in the chaos that he would no doubt cause? Was he not going to gloat in the Autobot's face? Not that it was not a good thing of course.

Feeling increasing like he had just stepped into some whacked out alternate dimension, Sam's confusion jumped straight up to eleven as his mother walked up to the jet and actually _petted_ it affectionately on the side.

"Good morning, Starscream," She called with her usual exuberance "How are you today?"

To Sam's eternal shock, Starscream actually answered politely. "Very well, thank you. And how are you?"

Judy giggled, a sound that Sam had felt slightly creeped out hearing in the current situation. Since when were they both on speaking terms? "Oh, excited of course. It's not every day that something like this happens."

_What_, Sam wanted to ask, _What's exciting? Talking to a giant robot that had previously been all for world domination?_

The situation was quickly going from alternate dimension to twilight zone, and Sam wasn't even sure which one was _worse_.

Feeling like he was missing out on something very important here, Sam tugged futilely at his restrictive safety belt and tried to catch a glimpse of his mom. "Mom," he called from within the high up cabin "Mom!"

Acting in an oh-why-I-never-you-were-here-all-along manner, Judy flashed a confused smile at her horrified offspring, idly wondering why he was giving her such an odd look. It was when her eyes drifted across the watch on her wrist that she came to a conclusion about her son's no doubt attempt at asking her to hurry up and get ready. To think that she was going to make them late! Petting the side of the massive jet once more, she gave one last fond smile at the F-22 and walked away from it.

Just as Sam thought that she was finally getting out of the danger zone though (He was going to have a talk with her on trusting mech's that had a habit of destroying one's house, _if_ he came back), she turned around and bestowed a few last sentences to her very much confused progeny and his current transport that was starting to attract no few stares.

"Starscream," She called, her voice echoing across the clearing in tandem with the roar of the Jet's powerful engines "Be a dear and take care of my Sammy now, won't you?"

Ignoring the blanche the human within sported, Starscream replied in an equally civilised manner, this was one woman he _did not_ want to cross. "Of course, Judy. I will personally ensure that your son will reach his destination safe and sound. Please do not worry." Revving his engines again, he prepared for take off. They were already running slightly behind schedule, and the inner perfectionist within Starscream's processor was demanding that _he_ make this day _perfect_!

Over the rising roar of the engine, Starscream called to the panicking human within him. "Sam, is there any last words you wish to say to your female parental unit?"

Perhaps he shouldn't have phrased it that way, because now utterly certain of his demise Sam started to struggle even more and gazed pleadingly at his mother. Was this really a conspiracy to get rid of him? One that even his mother was involved in?

"Mom," he cried out desperately "Mom, _why_?" Was this because of the lawn? If it was, he swore that he would fix it after every single incident it invited!

Judy sighed (was that a glimpse of _tears_ that he saw in her eyes?), a melancholy sound that somehow managed to transmit the feeling of someone fondly flipping through one's only offspring's no doubt silly and embarrassing antics throughout their life together. Raising her hand jerkily, she softly brushed her sleeve over her teary eyes and clutched her other hand to her chest. Smiling up at Sam, who was now gaping at her, she replied his question with much joy and happiness.

"Oh, Sam," She said, warmth and tears leaking into her voice "We just wish that you had told us earlier."

That didn't make sense.

"Your father and I don't mind your choice one bit."

Were they on the same page here?

"We just thought that it would have been nice to have had more time to prepare."

Prepare _what_?

"Nevertheless ... Oh, Sam. We're so happy for you."

Ok, Sam was certain that something seriously wrong with the situation now.

"Know that even if you've left us for another, you'll always be our baby boy!"

_What_?

Trying to literally melt his way through the reinforced glass stopping his way to freedom, Sam pawed at the glass, much to Starscream's amusement. "Mom," he called again "_What_?"

"Boy, surely you can't be _that_ dense." Starscream scoffed "Just accept her well wishes already. You will no doubt get more later."

_Wait_, Sam's mind cried in loud protest, his facial expression now completely incapable of expressing anything but dull horror and surprise, _You mean there are actually more people happy to get rid of me and they're going to __**congratulate**__ me about it?_

Spluttering, he turned to stare at the dashboard once again. Was this really happening to him?

"Come now, we are behind our schedule." Slowly moving and mindful of the tiny organic that raced besides him, Starscream coaxed Judy to the side and told her to put on a pair of ear muffs to dim the noise he would make. Even though he was already rigging his systems to produce the minimal amount of noise when he lifted off, he still wasn't keen on his new friend walking near him without any protection gear.

"Oh, Sammy," Judy sniffed, completely oblivious to Sam's horrified silhouette in the Jet "Goodbye."

And as if that word was the start of the race, Starscream took off into the sky with a burst of smoke and a gust of wind. True to his skills and a contradiction to his usual noisy antics, the noise his systems emitted was miniscule. After all, he was an alien robot and such things he was just capable of. It was also due to that fact that Sam managed to catch the last bit of his mother's tearful goodbye.

"_And Sammy_," Her voice rang out, enveloping the sky with the vibrant feelings that she felt and reaching Sam's sensitive ears loud and clear "_Remember. You'll always be our little boy, even if you get __**married**_!"

_What?_

The last bit was particularly loud for some reason and Sam pulled a Prowl when he fully processed the meaning of that sentence. Married, _Married_, _**What married? **_Fainting in a pile on Starscream's seat as Sam moaned in unconscious horror and trauma over his current situation, the Jet flew off happily into the sky with the mission 'Get Sam ready for the wedding' half completed.

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><p>AN

Have I mention how much I love crack fanfics?

Seriously, I like, really really like them.

Laughs in corner with sleep deprivation.

Please, please, please Review! Wind of the Dawn is very reliant on reviews and she lives off them sometimes.

And if anyone is wondering why Sam is acting so weirdly ... You'll see.

Now... Reality pup calls.

Goes of to sleep then work on assignments and new chapter of EG.

Wind of the Dawn out~


	2. Think Twice

Disclaimer: Transformers, anything to do with it, and any other characters mentioned in this story do not belong to me in any way, shape, or form. This story is not written or used in any commercial purposes. Basically, I do not own anything!

By: Wind of the Dawn

Chapter 2: Think Twice Before You Do Something

Warnings: Extreme crack, language, slash, and some ooc abound. If you don't like it, then please don't read it. And remember, not all stunts are possible, so **do not** try anything mentioned in here. Aside from that, other dangerous behaviour should not also be tried _anywhere_.

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><p><em>Sam had better start thinking twice before he act.<em>

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><p><em>Throbbing music and the swirling waves of colours danced across his eyes, while the fruity taste of the tropical punch slid across his tongue. Teasing him with its icy coolness and the exotic taste of summer fruit. <em>

_Hands draped across his lap, Sam heard the fading laughter of his friends swing around the field, reverting between the loud throb of a drum and the soft whisper of a harp. His head was heavy and dizzy, but why?_

_"Sam?"_

_A familiar British accent disturbed his nonsensical pondering, and Sam gazed up at his guest questioningly with hazy eyes. He was pretty sure that he did not know the dashing male that stood in front of him, eyeing his slowly reddening face with much trepidation and alarm. Why did he have that look on his face? It was supposed to be a fun celebration. A party to rejoice in their victory in one of the latest battles between Autobot and Decepticon. The male should have been laughing with everyone, dancing freely under the moonlight in this happy moment._

_The male chuckled, a warm sound that caressed the wind. "How could I do that if you're clearly not well?"_

_Not well? Sam was well, and perfectly fine. In fact, he had never felt better!_

_"No, Sam, you're not."_

_What?_

_Sam must have voiced his previous thoughts out muddily, as the male was now gazing at him in part amusement and majority concern. Reaching out gently to brush against Sam's burning cheek, he leaned in closer and breathed in slowly, facial expression rapidly morphing into anger once he discovered something that he didn't like one bit._

_Carefully taking away Sam's fruit punch from where it stood on the bench he sat on, the male tossed it through the air and into the bin, with nary a drop of liquid spilling. Grasping Sam by an arm, he slowly pushed him to lean against the back of the bench, then turned and called out to a furry green figure in the distance._

_"Ratchet," The male called, a surprisingly strong voice -yet still oh-so gentle- shooting through the loud wails of music and techno colours slinging through the air, "Ratchet, come quick! Someone spiked the punch with a bit of alcohol, and Sam's ingested some. He doesn't look too well."_

_The green figure jerked, a nauseating movement that threatened to send Sam dropping in the abyss of darkness with something pushing up against his throat. It reminded him so much of his first roller coaster ride, with the sudden ups and downs, with the unexpected twist that would always come, swinging you against the person next-_

_Leaning over the bench and escaping from the male's soothing grasp, Sam puked onto the ground. There went his dinner, as well as anything else he ingested that night. Moaning uncomfortably, he let himself get pulled up gently and leaned once more against the bench. Pressing his forehead lightly against the cool hand that covered his forehead, Sam slowly drifted off into sleep, ears still straining to hear the activity happening around him._

_"Fraggit!" Ah, the lime green one was here "The twins must have spiked the human refreshments again."_

_"How can you be sure that it's them?" A silence ensued, as if one party was eyeballing the other with the sheer impossibility of the question._

_"Right, who else would in this area."_

_"Indeed." Replied the dry voice that was slowly nearing him._

_The grinding sound of hydraulics suddenly rang next to Sam's ear and he let out a faint sound of surprise and fear. No! Who was it? Bumblebee!_

_"Relax, Sam. It's only us. No need to be afraid." As if reading his mind, a smooth palm brushed against Sam's sweat dampened forehead and combed through his darkened hair, chasing his worries off into the sky. He knew that voice, that gesture. It was ..._

_"Bumblebee."_

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><p>For the second time in the same day, not an hour after his impromptu departure into the sky with a much unwanted companion and his sudden marriage notice kindly delivered to him by his emotional mom, Sam Witwicky woke up with a jerk, a torrid of bad memories, and a cracking headache. Feeling very much like he had just gone one on one with a skyscraper in a wrestling match again, he groaned fitfully and lowered his head into his chest. <em>Why was his head still aching so much<em>?

_Faintly, a memory stirred._

Slitting his eyes open a crack, he spied his surroundings as he heeded his survival instincts that were currently screeching at him to play dead and deny _everything_. Hopefully, Starscream would think that his previous groan was that of someone getting significantly bad dreams and reacting negatively unconsciously towards it. If all went well, the mech would assume that he was still asleep; if not, well, then there would be a whole bunch of trouble and questions to chew on.

Personally, Sam hoped that Starscream would pick the first option. Even though he was burning for answers (since when did he agree to marry _anyone_?), he wasn't so keen on playing a game of twenty questions with the seeker. Considering that he was previously very much out for his blood before this sudden one eighty attitude change, Sam thought that playing dead would be a very wise choice. A less troublesome one as well.

Sadly for him though, Starscream decided to be extra perspective that day. Once his systems had recorded the groan and processed it, he immediately sent out an army of scanners on the boy. Lights flashed on and off in the Jet's cockpit, turning the place into a very bad rendition of a disco ball gone wrong. Raising both his hands to shield his stinging eyes, Sam howled loudly. _The lights, they blinded through his eyelids_!

Cussing loudly as he tended to his agitated retinas (Oh, how they _throbbed_), Sam growled when he heard Starscream hum in glee and satisfaction, most likely achieving what he had aimed for when he released the neon lights that still refused to dim in the cockpit. At that moment, Sam came to the realization that once everything was over he would most certainly need to see an optometrist. It couldn't be healthy for his eyes if he constantly looked directly at sights such as these, or if he sometimes had to stare up at the glowing beams from a Decepticons cannon, an action that most Decepticons liked to cohere out of him.

The sadists.

Musing silently over the facts of life and his common misfortune in meeting the enemy, Sam wondered how on earth he was going to get out of this situation, like, preferably now. Obviously, playing dead was out of the picture and he'd probably get another burst of disco lights if he tried to do so again. An escape attempt also seemed like a really _really_ bad idea, with him being thousands of miles in the air and all. Threatening the seeker wasn't an option. It just wasn't. And so, that left...

Drawing in a nervous breath, Sam prepared himself to pester Starscream for answers. He would not take silence as a response. Opening his mouth, he decided to ask Starscream what on earth did his mom mean by _marriage_.

"What was that for!" He questioned, voice jumping up a notch or two.

Unfortunately, calmness and staying on topic had never been Sam's strong point. Give him an apple and he'd turn it into an orange for you.

"You're going to have to elaborate on that question, boy." Starscream, the ultimate epitome of calmness, replied. "What was what for?"

"That," Sam gestured at the still blinking disco lights in the cabin and the world in general. "_That_."

Starscream stared at Sam from an unknown location (you couldn't really tell where the actual head compartment was after they transformed), and dryly dissected Sam's query. "Very detailed, boy. Thank you for helping me understand your previously vague question."

There was so much sarcasm soaking the sentence that Sam could practically feel it oozing into the enclosed place he was in. Not quite willing to tempt fate in seeing if said ooziness would actually become solid and touchable if left long enough, or if Starscream would finally snap from his lack of attitude and chuck him face first into the sky, he rectified his lack of basic courtesy (_Courtesy, to a Decepticon_, Sam's mind murmured, _the world has finally gone mad_) and attempted to be more civil.

Attempted, being the key word.

Time had ingrained the instinct of _Run, Sam, Run! _into the agitated boy's mind, and being stuck in a Jet thousands of feet off the ground in the very vessel that was his enemy was a situation that his shrieking instinct had always worked to prevent from happening. Now that it happened, there was no way in the seven seas that it would be easy to rationally think things through. Thus, Sam snapped even harder.

Being civil and calm had never been tougher.

"_This, this!_" Sam yelled "_What is this? Why are you on speaking terms with my mom? Where is Bumblebee? And why am I getting __**married**__?_"

Observing stoically as the human basically started having a breakdown of epic proportions, Starscream brushed aside the hysterical tone and focused mainly on the slurred out words. Answering the key points diligently and ignoring some questions best left alone, he provided the now hyperventilating boy with much needed knowledge.

"Sam," He stated steadily, internal sensors blaring loudly as the boy's heart rate soared in a reminiscence of an impending heart attack when he had called out his name flatly. "I am currently transporting you to the wedding location, I know your mother from previous communication sessions, and you are getting married because you agreed to get married."

Well, that helped a lot. Not.

Exerting an impressive feat of will in suppressing his inner storm, Sam grasped the dashboard and its various knobs and buttons in his hand and _squeezed_. Taking in a fearful sort of triumph as he felt the Jet wobble a bit in uncertainty (Sam bet that Starscream had never had a squishy inside him fiddling with his various facilities before), he groused out his objection to the given answer. "_That_," Sam growled, revealing a more scarier side to his nature "_Was not an answer_."

Normally, such a sudden behaviour change would have at least attracted a wary glance from the Autobots. Sadly for Sam, Starscream was a hardcore Decepticon warrior. And more importantly, he was also the favourite punching bag of Megatron for eons already, hence making him literally immune to all glares and abuse except for Megatron's.

Whether that accomplishment was astounding or not remained debatable.

Brushing Sam's homicidal glare away, Starscream evenly said that yes, it was an answer, he had replied all of Sam's questions, while Sam glared even more and said Fuck no, that was as helpful as a stick, and could he count or not because he missed his question on Bumblebee.

A challenging silence ensued.

Seconds ticked by as Sam resisted the urge to just get up and whack his surroundings, he was going to slowly but surely turn insane if he didn't get any _real_ answers soon, and none of those cryptic and half truths, thank you very much. Clenching his hair between his fingers and pulling at it, he cursed life in general. _What was going on_?

Meanwhile, Starscream stared at the boy, perturbed. For all the time he had spent with the boy in good spirit (hunting him), the boy had never displayed such funny mood changes. Maybe the pre-marital nerves was affecting him worse than he had initial estimated. Although... Was short term memory loss included in stress symptoms? This was climbing into an alarming category of its own.

Internally pondering the possibility of the boy's intended treating him as target practice once it became known that there was possibly something wrong with the jabbering human, Starscream carefully tested the water, so to speak. "Boy," Starscream said, voice filled with some sort of foreboding vibe "What do you remember?"

Perhaps his own question was not much better than the one asked by Sam (goodness knows that it lacked specificness itself), because the boy gaped like a fish for a moment. Deciding to narrow his enquiry down to a more manageable level for him, Starscream was just about to rephrase his question when Sam answered the most explosive way that he could.

Eyes bulging out wide with his face rapidly turning white, Sam somehow managed to stare unnervingly and accurately into the mech's hidden optics, and rasped out a few soft words, not unlike a paranormal spectre with the way he was now acting.

"_I don't remember __**anything**__._"

Surely he didn't really mean that. "What?" Starscream double checked "_What_?"

Repeating his words like he was speaking to a child, Sam accented his reply _hard _and in _bold letters_. "_**I. don't. remember. anything**__._"

Engines spluttering in protest and absolute horror, Starscream took a sudden nosedive in the air. He couldn't really mean that! "What do you mean you don't remember anything? You can't _not _remember anything!" Never before had Starscream heard of pre-marital stress causing one party to literally forget _everything_, but if it was true, him causing it or not, he was scrapped metal.

Fingers clenching tightly under the abrupt acceleration down the sky, Sam gritted his teeth in dull fear and annoyance with both emotions battling valiantly to take over his systems. Slamming his fist in exasperation on Starscream's dash board, he growled out loud "I meant what I said. _I don't remember everything_." Screw remembering anything about the nonsense that everyone except him was sprouting, all he knew was that life had been average for him before yesterday. Nothing out of line. No proposing maniacs. No kidnappings without his guardian overseeing them and rescuing him.

Wait a second... Before yesterday?

Sam's sluggish ponderings were disturbed by Starscream's continuous wild screeching as he vehemently started denying all that was wrong. Apparently, he wasn't the only one that woke up on the wrong side of the bed that day, because the seeker seemed to be experiencing problems of his own. Namely, a more explosive emotional circuit, for some reason. Sam had seen him panic (mildly) before, however he had never seen the Jet acting anything like this before. He was practically raving. What crawled up his pipe?

(Sam was blissfully unaware of the fact that Starscream was personally liable for his wellbeing and was answerable to all happenings to him, his own fault or not. Hence, once known that the boy actually had really obtained amnesia... Let's just say that he has a very _very_ good imagination and prediction of his impending fate.)

"Oi," Trying to attract Starscream's attention and prevent the jet from smashing into the _rapidly approaching ground_, Sam hit the dash board with the spite of one rightfully angered. Persisting in his demeaning actions when the Jet remained completely oblivious to his increasingly frantic summons (Sam could see the tiny roofs of cars below him now and he was not liking it one bit), he felt his already shot emotional centre become even more fried up. _He refused to die in a hysterical Decepticon with no control over his own emotions and without answers like this dammit_.

Pulling an act of extreme danger, Sam grabbed the... stick positioned in front of him and forcefully commandeered it. Jerking it towards himself in a lack of anything else to do (he had never piloted a plane before, and really, didn't his action mean fly up now anyway?), he hoped fervently that the Jet would indeed turn its nose upwards instead of the 'splat' direction immediately. Feeling the metal beneath him groan in protest and heat up devastatingly, Sam thought that Starscream would be one lousy mech if he couldn't pull off sudden manoeuvres like this. Shouldn't he be the elite trine commander that had awesome flying abilities or something like that? Unless, of course, his previous bragging while chasing him down was all lies.

Sam wouldn't put it past the seeker to brag a lot. He seemed the type to do so.

Ignoring that first though, the ground was getting closer. Were Starscream and him really going to smack face down onto the approaching concrete soon? Not if he could help it. Bracing himself steadily, Sam continued to pull on the stick, absently taking into account the weird sounds that were admitting from Starscreams engine. Somehow the seeker must have returned to reality, because suddenly the Jet pulled a seemingly impossible ariel stunt that resulted in everything being inverted all at once, and pulled into the sky again in high speed. Recovering from his impromptu whiplash from the twist and turns, Sam released a shaky breath. Seriously, what was up with Starscream?

"So much for not letting anything happen to me." He snarked.

Twisting once again and relishing in a panicked yelp, Starscream snarled back. "That is the least of my concerns now, boy. What do you mean you don't remember anything?"

Shaking his head at the snarling Jet and his one track mind (didn't he notice that they were just freefalling a moment ago?), Sam slowly answered the repeated question again. "I told you before. I don't remember anything, including this marriage you all are talking about. And please, this time, _don't take a nose dive again_."

Nursing his burning gears (the boy displayed surprising strength in manhandling his tender circuits) and conveniently excluding the last part from his audio systems (Decepticons's _never_ panicked), Starscream glared incredulously at the seated boy. This was... This was... This was a catastrophe.

_What is going on? _Both human and mech cried silently in their respective processors.

"Is this a joke?" Starscream questioned desperately, perhaps the boy was just pretending and riling him up on purpose. "Surely you are just tweaking my processors, right? If you are, it's cruel!"

Sam was that close to pulling a Judy. What was with this infuriating day and people constantly paying no heed to his actual questions? They weren't even wrapped up in those meddlesome riddles and curses that you always had to solve on those television shows! Maybe Starscream's battles with the Autobots had finally knocked some screws loose.

Or maybe it was Megatron who had knocked some screws loose in him. Considering the stories that Bumblebee had always chittered to him about the two, it was entirely possible.

Talk about a complicated relationship.

And who was Starscream to talk about cruel? He was the one that was constantly hounding _him_ for god knows what.

Sam snorted, a loud and unpleasant noise. "Ha. Joking. Right. Why on earth would I do that! Do you think I actually like pretending to have amnesia? I don't remember anything you fragging little glitch!"

Starscream pulled another horrified expression internally. Such language! Who on earth taught him swear like that?

(Somewhere far far away a certain lime green medic twisted a recovering mech wrong in the arm and raised an eye ridge amidst a pain filled yowl, wondering who was talking about him and questioning his swearing skills)

Noticing that he had swerved off topic again, Starscream pulled himself back to line. Steeling himself in case of another soul wrenching piece of information that would send him cart wheeling towards land again, he approached Sam like a cat to a dog. Utterly unwilling and with the possibility of being bitten. Which was ridiculous of course, he was Starscream, second in command of the Decepticon army and the leader of The Seeker Trine; no puny human would best him... _Was that a bat he saw floating next to the boy_?

Indeed, after Starscream had repeatedly rebooted his optics several times, the unmistakable figure of a bat was floating next to Sam's head, completely invisible to everyone but him. Instantly thrown back into a memory of the first time he had met the female parental unit of the boy with her deceivingly bright smile and the dented bat she had took with her in menacing the future in-laws of her son, the seeker shuddered. This was a very bad. _Very bad_. If the bat was here, did that mean that the female was somehow aware of the mistreatment and condition of her offspring? Even though she was grounded while he and the boy were thousand of miles up in the air? What power was this?

"So ... boy, why do you insist that you do not remember anything" There were times when a mighty warrior had to bend a bit, and Starscream thought that from the looks on the boys increasingly fuming face, he had better subside his pride a bit just before he got whacked by an identified object, like say, the bat that was still _floating next to Sam's head_.

(Starscream had never considered the fact that he might have been hallucinating, if giant robots even hallucinated. In his defence, he really didn't want to find out if Samuel Witwicky had inherited his mother's infamous batting skills.)

Sam glared at the dashboard and attempted to perfect his eye-fu, hoping that Starscream would just suddenly kneel over. What part of he didn't remember did he not understand? And just what part of his previous howls and screeches did he get the impression that he was _fibbing_?

Smacking the side of his seat threateningly and inviting a flinch from his out-of-character transport, Sam gritted his teeth and snarled. This was Fubar! Fubar! Absolutely Fubar! Grinding his teeth repeatedly and letting out funny sounds that sounded suspiciously like a mixture of grinding mortar and overstressed hydraulics, Sam eyed the Jet without blinking while his mind attempted to work out a suitable manner of conversing with the Decepticon. From what he had been trying already, Sam had an impression that their conversation was going _nowhere_.

_Right_, Sam decided, _Time to dumb things down a bit_.

Instantly rewriting Starscream's position as 'scary screechy mech' within his mind cabinet into 'weirder than usual with less processing speed', Sam revamped his script on the greatly misunderstood mech and started treating him in a way best fitted to deal with a child. Seriously, as some super advanced robot with millenniums of experience on a puny human, shouldn't Starscream be smarter than this?

Evidently not, because he still didn't understand what Sam was trying to tell him.

"Starscream," Sam said, with exaggerated slowness, "I don't remember anything about this marriage business and your sudden relationship with my mom. I need you to tell me everything you know about this."

Starscream spluttered, Cybertronian spit flying everywhere in his engine, making him note down a mental memo to clean himself after he reached his destination, provided he wasn't turned into scrap metal first. Or gave himself a crashed processor. Whichever came first. "But- but you can't not remember!"

Resisting the urge to bash his head into the glass, Sam despaired. Why was his denial so strong? Shouldn't _he_ be the one whom was more hysterical over the whole business? And why did Starscream still not _understand_? They had already spent most of the day arguing about one single subject! Deep breaths, Sam. Deep breaths. Don't let the crazy mech bring you down.

Or alternatively, let the mech bring you down, and unleash the inner Judy.

Instantly going through a quick transformation sequence that resulted with absolutely no appearance changes, but with a one eighty back flip in his personality, Sam smashed his hand down on Starscream's much abused dashboard. Eyes shining brightly like he had in-built light bulbs in them (such was his fury that Sam was starting to defy the world's logic), he roared out loud in an admirable imitation of Megatron's war cry. "Starscream," Sam bellowed, his own eardrums ringing spastically in the resulting echo within the tiny one man cabin "Shut up!"

The seeker meeped, jerked out of his armour with the sudden Megatron-like clone in his cabin. What was with the world slinging homicidal beings in his face these few orns? First Megatron and his constant 'you have failed me again STARSCREAM!' , then Optimus Prime and his sudden face demanding antics, and now a human boy that was slowly morphing into a mixture of himself, Megatron, and his mother, along with a side order with amnesia and forthcoming doom via betroth. What was this? An alternate universe?

"Don't presume that you can order me boy, you -"

"Starscream," Sam groused out loud, flaming visions of doom and anger lurking forebodingly in his oh-god-I've-snapped eyes, "Before I take out my mallet. _Shut up_."

About to continue his disrupted sentence, Starscream stopped in consideration. He observed no existence of a mallet, but could he trust his senses? There was already the vague outline of a baseball bat fleeting teasingly at the edges of his optics, so could he trust his senses when they told him no such mallet existed? Aside from that, was Samuel Witwicky capable of hitting as hard as his female parental unit? If he was, Starscream was _so_ slagged.

(Starscream was still a little dazed from all his constant worrying and ... other issues, so logic didn't sit well with him at the moment. There was also the presence of the overprotective guardian/parent/betroth that Sam always had, or would have, lurking around him, waiting for a single moment to strike at the unwary. So, naturally, tossing the boy out was a big no.)

"Fine, boy." Becoming increasingly unstable, Starscream assented to Sam's less than polite request "I will remain quiet." _For now._

Satisfied over the compliance, Sam nodded his head condensingly. Now they were going somewhere, and if all things remained smoothly he would finally get the answer he long seeked for. Hurray.

"Now, Starscream," Mentally categorizing his question and answer list, Sam decided to act on his many info blanks and grill the sulky mech for glorious information. "What happened yesterday?"

Pulling a _what_, Starscream's engine whined unflatteringly. Where did _that_ question come from? "What?"

Waving his hand around in the confined air space, Sam gestured at unknown objects. "Yesterday," He said "Yesterday, you know? At the ... party, I think?" Flashbacks weren't really reliable, and considering how drunk Sam appeared to be in what he remembered he definitely needed a more reliable, not to mention sober, source to clear up his wonderings.

Starscream stared. What party? There was no party! Decepticon's never partied after the famous Megatron got drunk incident. They still haven't managed to get all the debris's out of Skywarp's boosters yet, and it was already more than centuries since the incident!

"Boy, there _was_ no party."

"There was none?" Then what was his little reminiscing about? Head dropping down in exasperation, Sam wondered if he would ever get his answers. "Are you sure?"

Starscream provided an affirmative to Sam's reply. There was indeed no such party on their part, but... "The Decepticon's _had_ no party, however there _was_ a staged attack on the Autobots last night."

Instantly perking up with renewed hope in his eyes, even though one of his enemies had just confessed that they had indeed attacked his allies just the night before, conveniently at the same time in which he forgot everything with any importance, Sam stared eagerly at Starscream's hidden face for any continuous data streams.

Once again unnerved by Sam's uncanny accuracy in guessing hidden Cybertronian face spots, Starscream hesitated before he dropped his next bombshell. Hopefully the boy would not hit him for this. "There was an attack, but I wasn't there."

Silence occupied the cabin and Starscream was now reminded of Soundwave's eerie silences when he drifted off somewhere to plot whatever he plotted. Eyeing the once more stiffening face of his temporary charge, he felt his nonexistent gut drop down in anxiety. This was not good.

Lunging desperately at any way of saving the situation, Starscream tried to salvage whatever chance he had left at living. The human looked close to having a fit, which would get him slagged by his betroth if it was ever found out; and even if he didn't have one, he'd probably pull out the mallet.

"I wasn't there due to trine issues," The seeker rapidly informed, "However, if you agree to my proposition, I believe that I can help you with remembering."

"Oh?" Looking up darkly from his spastic thoughts, Sam lifted an eyebrow and crossed his fingers, offering the seeker a quaint little smile "And how?"

(Unknown to Sam, Starscream was now reminded of his betroth in one of his more sinister moments.)

"You want to know what happened last night, and deducing from your knowledge about the party and various other information I assume that you were present."

"Yes, I was. Go on."

"As you most likely know, Cybertronians possess many things that have not reached human consumption or understanding. Amongst one of such things is a chemical most commonly known as-"

"Starscream," Sam cut into the mechs ensuing scientific information session, raising his head slowly and acting very much like a certain mech that the seeker knew. "Get to the point."

A nervous affirmative. "Yes, as I was saying, some Cybertronians are capable of emitting memory jogging substances, and I am one of them. Regardless of current or previous uncertainty, such substances will be able to clear your lack of memory and allow you to witness them again. If you permit, would you like to use them?"

Eyes arching up into his forehead, Sam stared in pleasant surprise at the jabbering mech. He never knew that the Decepticon could actually be more polite than before. He seriously thought that he would have rather swallowed his foot, considering how Starscream had struggled to pronounce his name civilly before.

(Sam was not aware of his parallel personality and actions that had resulted from his temper going way south were actually a close semblance of a certain mech that had haunted the corridors of the Decepticon base.)

"And this won't harm me?"

"No." As if he would dare on such a day.

"Fine then, hit me."

Human expressions were still beyond Starscream. "_What_?"

Sam sighed, "I meant, let's give it a go."

Still slightly confused, Starscream nodded and activated his protocols. Releasing the memory jogging chemicals into the air, he watched as the boy slowly fell into sleep again.

That was a necessary step in retrieving memory, and considering the boy's increasingly alarming antics he wasn't going to protest against the sudden quiet. Besides, he would wake up in time of the wedding and the chemical was no harm to humans, so he would be spared a meeting with a certain mech.

It was for the best.

Meanwhile, as Starscream relaxed, Sam tensed. Falling asleep again was not in the deal or explanation. And to think that he decided that he wasn't going to use his mallet on Starscream.

Ah well, at least the disco lights were finally off.

* * *

><p>And so... Another chapter!<p>

Wind and Dawn dances in happiness.

Thank you to all those who reviewed and added this story to your fav or alert list!

We hope that you've enjoyed this chapter, and we sincerely wish that you found it as funny as the last. Please leave a review, they are our encouragement!

The plot thickens, I won't reveal the mystery mech first... But ... Try and guess!

Sobs over assignment, Wind is worried. Wails

Wind of the Dawn out~


	3. Galavading Dreamscape

Disclaimer: Transformers, anything to do with it, and any other characters mentioned in this story do not belong to me in any shape or form. This story is not written or used in any commercial purposes. Basically, I do not own anything!

By: Wind of the Dawn

Chapter 3: Galavading Dreamscape

Warnings: Extreme crack, language, slash, and some ooc abound. If you don't like it, then please don't read it. And remember, not all stunts are possible, so **do not** try anything mentioned in here. Aside from that, other dangerous and harmful behaviour/actions should not be tried or done _anywhere_.

Setting: N.E.S.T celebration at some unknown beach. The day before events in chapter 1 and 2 occurred. Late evening - Night.

* * *

><p>There was some sort of morbid fascination in watching yourself get dead drunk from drinking an assortment of juice with vibrant colours. Said fascination was also impressively increased when Sam notice that instead of just watching a memory of himself having what seemed to be a lot of fun, Sam himself, a poltergeist like spectre that was floating miserably next to memory-Sam's shoulders, could actually <em>feel<em> what was happening at that very moment.

Talk about twin telepathy.

Never mind about the weird dual feeling thingy, though Sam very much wanted to literally sit back and enjoy the show, he was here peeking into his own personal time for something important. Something earth shattering. Something so crucial that the swirly disco lights paled in comparison. Something so important that Sam would _die_ if he didn't get his answers. Something so ... You get the drift.

No? Still don't know?

Very well then, Sam was searching for _The Moment_ in which he had somehow _Engaged_ _Himself_ to a _Decepticon_ (At least Sam hoped it was a Decepticon, because if he _proposed_ to an Autobot he would _never_ be able to face them ever again), with the wedding pending the next day...

Wait a minute, did that mean that he was going to have a shotgun wedding?

_Bad Sam_, Shaking his head and giving himself a small smack, Sam reminded himself that he needed to concentrate on the happening events that were giving him a magnificent amount of trouble (trauma) outside his subconscious state, _Concentrate! _This was not a time to think about wedding types!

Ideally, though, if he had to have a wedding, Sam rather thought that he would prefer to have one with his soul mate, one with lots and lots of non-threatening guests, and more importantly, one in which he actually _knew who he was getting married to_. Not that said wedding was going to happen anytime soon, considering the fact that he had gotten dumped by Mikeala a few days ago for some convoluted reason that was conveyed by giggly little whispers and side glances, rendering everything to be unintelligible.

I mean, _what_?

Sam didn't speak girl talk. How was he supposed to understand what she was trying to say!

A prick of vertigo assaulted Sam's senses in the form of swinging landscapes, and turning his current ghost like form around, he stared at his past self as he was cohered into consuming another cup of juice with questionable contents. Watching as a dashing young male with gleaming red hair and electric blue eyes pat past-Sam laughingly on his drooping shoulders (_Sideswipe_, his memory whispered), ghost Sam gagged. Feeling burning liquid slide smoothly down his throat, he hastily floated closer to his counterpart, fervently praying that the visit to the past would not gift him with another hangover. From what Sam had experienced, he really didn't want to go through it again.

Sloshing, and another cup full of punch was passed to the increasingly nauseated boy. Draping himself lazily upon his grinning brother, Sunstreaker stretched his limbs languishly and gave a slow dark smile. Threading his fingers sensually through his smooth blond hair, turquoise eyes gleamed in the darkened background, silently entertaining himself with some unknown thought. And as both brothers gave different grins with same intentions, Sam felt a shiver rise through his spine.

He had heard of them before. Who hadn't? The moment a transmission had came days after the Matrix had happened, the base of Autobots had been thrown into a state of uproar. While Sideswipe had been deliriously happy and full of mischief that had not been felt before, others had been wary and in states of uncertain amusement. When asked why, the vague answer that had been given was that another group of Autobots were arriving. More specifically, as Ratchet had groused out, the other half of the headache was coming.

Much confusion was birthed in face of such ambiguous statements, but the moment Sunstreaker had walked up to his brother, the truth was quickly revealed. Together, they were from toe to eye a special sort of trouble, complete with snarky comments and a distressing amount of pranks; and today, it seemed that they had painted the target on Sam himself.

_One after another. Colours after colours. The world was spinning and would not __**stop**__._

"C'mon Sam," Sideswipe coaxed, voice like melted chocolate and a pinch of spice, tempting and hot at the same time. "Just a bit more."

A vortex of sound entered his ears, agitating his rebelling stomach with its loud and soft tempo. Sam moaned, feeling the urge to just lie down and sleep on the ground. "No," He mumbled, "Don't want anymore."

A sardonic chuckle and a brush of fingers against his own. "Leave him be, Sideswipe. He's drunk enough as it is."

Both Sam's, one unseen and the other very much a target of mischief, blinked groggily through the searing rays of light and the throbbing sound of music. Wearing same expressions of confusion, they blinked in union at the smiling twins. What was going on?

"Oh look, Sunny," Gliding closer to the Sam's with unearthly grace, Sideswipe leaned closer to the intoxicated boy, facial expression set all the time in a relaxed grin. Reaching his hand out for a brush over the humans warmed cheek, he lingered for a moment, caressing Sam, then gave out a mocking sigh. "Such low tolerance he has, doesn't he?"

Similarly, like his brother, the darker twin slid to the other side of Sam, a Cheshire smile upon his lips. Hands clasped behind his back, Sunstreaker gave a measuring look at the boy and uttered a considering hum. "I wouldn't know, brother. I haven't been around long enough to know."

"Oh?" Slinging his arm in a practiced arc across the yellow mech's solid holoform, Sideswipe purred. "Then we'll just have to educate you now, won't we?"

"We'll see." Ice cold and seductive heat, Sunstreaker gazed at Sideswipe from the side of his eyes and walked away into the dancing crowd, blending in in an instance. Behind him, his brother watched archly and raised a single eyebrow in acceptance of the unspoken challenge. Chuckling softly, he turned to face Sam.

"Well then, I can't disappoint him now, can I?" Plucking the cup out of Sam's hand daintily, Sideswipe emptied half of it onto the ground. Sam stared, confused, at the stain now forming upon the dry sand. Hadn't the red haired male coax him to finish it previously?

_His head hurt._

"Come on," Guiding Sam gently by the arm, Sideswipe sat him down securely on a nearby bench. Placing the half empty drink by his side, he winked at the human. "Stay here, someone will come soon." That said, the holoform walked off swiftly, elegance coating his every step.

Sam stared dazedly, eyes dropping down in a bid for sleep. Next to him, ghost-Sam glared, he remembered now, the aft's had...

"Sam?"

... Spiked his drink.

Turning around to watch the movie of his life again, Sam spotted Bee's holoform walking towards him worriedly. Very much amused over the entire scenario, even though his other self (and himself by extension) was going through an insane bout of roller coaster rides in the head, he floated around the fussing mech and took in his profile with a warm feeling. After all this time, he still couldn't get use to Bumblebee's new look.

Smooth blond hair tumbled wildly down the fine contour of Bumblebee's face, and streaks of black highlighted the side of his fringe. Magnetic blue eyes sparkled in concern, and arms clad in a soft white jacket grasped the tipsy boy's arm. Leaning past-Sam back against the chair, Bumblebee and his past self proceeded to enact out what had happened before. Meanwhile, ghost-Sam floated above them, observing everything with an earthquake of a headache. Somehow, he didn't think that he would escape the hangover anymore.

Ah well.

Trying to float higher while the events he remembered were occurring, Sam was somewhat stunned to find out that he couldn't float anywhere higher from where past-Sam was. Moving around, he too found out that he couldn't leave a certain radius. So much for his plan of exploring the party. Still... It was probably better if he stuck with himself anyway.

The sound of puking travelled over, and ghost Sam suddenly felt the same need to violently regurgitate whatever was in his non-existent digestive tracks. Wasn't it ironic that even though he didn't have any organs to bother at the moment, he still felt like vomiting out everything residing within? Speaking of that, was is really necessary for him to experience every frickin emotion and feeling that he had already went through the day before just to dig out a miniscule moment in his life? Yes, it was important, but why did he have to experience everything again? Couldn't he just come in, watch, then get out? Not come in, suffer, miss, repeat? Knowing his running luck, things would probably _all_ fly that way!

"Bumblebee," A weak little murmur, barely heard above the ring of noise and the patter of dancing feet.

Shifting over to Bee and past-Sam's side, ghost-Sam tried to quail his churning stomach and moved closer for a better look. This Cybertronian stuff must be really potent for him to be able to view everything in a 3D manner with a three hundred and sixty degree view. Talk about impressive, or maybe creepy. How did it let him watch like this anyway?

"Bumblebee" Another soft call, hands reaching out feebly for the comforting touch of another, and a pair of warm human hands answered his calls, entwining themselves soothingly into pallid palms. Bright eyes gleamed in front of him, and through a misty haze Sam, both of them, fancied that they had seen something truly beautiful.

_Sweet, sweet, Bumblebee. Always so concerned. Always so caring._

A hand untangled and placed itself against Sam's clammy forehead. Fever bright and oh-so-dizzy, Sam felt himself twitch slightly from the slight chill; He hadn't expected Bee to do that. "Bee?" He called out softly, ascertaining that the mech was really there with him when he felt so unattached, like gravity didn't exist in this twirling existence. "Bee?"

"Yes, I'm here, Sam." Ever so attentive, Bumblebee shifted towards his charge, closing the distance between them. Leaning in till Sam could feel the soft brushes of his breath dancing across his heated face, he gazed into his fuzzy brown eyes with unearthly warmth and smiled a soft smile.

Past-Sam felt something lurch within him, and above him ghost-Sam felt his own face heat up with embarrassment and something else. What...

A sad little mewl escaped from past-Sam, and with what little strength that remained in him, he pushed himself off the bench and gave a feeble hug to the stunned scout. Pawing unsteadily at Bumblebee's clothed back, he buried his spinning head into Bee's shoulder, hoping that the action would soothe his hurting head in the process. Lifting one hand, he braced it against where the thrum of Bee's heart could be felt and whispered his name softly into the holoform's ear. Unseen by him, Bumblebee's face blushed an attractive red.

Ratchet laughed. "It seems like Sam has taken a liking to you, Bumblebee. I do hope that you are prepared to spend the night like this."

Gently patting the whimpering Sam on the back, Bumblebee shot a melancholic glare at the amused medic. "He is intoxicated, Ratchet. Sam would not exhibit such behaviour in normal circumstances."

"I'm sure." A dry reply of sarcasm.

"He wouldn't," Stubborn in his belief, the scout gave the green mech's forming holoform a dirty look. "If he were sober, Sam would not do such things. Besides, he doesn't even ..." Hesitation, and the sentence was cut off.

Lights continued to flicker above them, and the swing of sultry Jazz started to sound across the clearing. An awkward silence enveloped them all, damping all feelings with a smothering cloth. From somewhere behind, ghost-Sam blinked in bafflement. What was going on now?

"Bumblebee..." Walking closer to the hesitating scout, Ratchet's holoform, a middle aged male with rugged features and sandy hair, placed his hand on the scouts shoulder in a comforting gesture. Words were exchanged in silence, something only those who were well acquainted could have achieved, and Bumblebee gave out a forlorn sigh.

"He doesn't..." He said, face caught in a mournful look "He just doesn't..."

Ratchet pushed Bumblebee firmly, but kindly, to the side. Crouching before the inebriated boy, he started a series of scans and tests to diagnose the situation. Grunting in annoyance over the results, he pushed the boy firmly onto the bench and angled his body onto one side. Throughout the whole process, Sam whined pathetically, seeking out for the presence of his guardian.

"Bee..." He called, voice dropping into a diminuendo.

Bumblebee faltered.

"Go on," Ratchet urged "He's calling you."

"But-"

The medic sighed, a weary sound that pickled against Sam's senses. "Whether or not he really feels so, wasn't it your own will that compelled you to stay by his side and care for him?"

"Yes, but-"

"Then _stay_ you ungrateful brat, don't think so much." Standing to his full height, the medic dispelled his holoform and snorted down at Bumblebee from his imposing posture in the air. "It will hurt more in the end if you don't try; besides, someone has to stay with the boy."

Waving at Bumblebee to go to his charge's side, Ratchet pinged him with a file of instructions then walked off briskly like a man on a mission, or alternatively, like a mech avoiding more questions. At his rear, the scout gaped, body already automatically heading for Sam, and above him the other Sam stared blankly.

What on earth?

Highly convinced that he was now missing more than the actual topic of the conversation itself, Sam's mind started to off in obtuse angles. What just happened here? He didn't remember this happening! It seemed almost like a secret code thingy that was being spoken in front of him, like they knew that there was an unwanted third, or maybe fourth, party listening in to their talk. He didn't understand anything! Only that it had somehow been about him!

What?

Observing as Bumblebee tended to his past self's confusing needs, Sam perched himself high in the air and tried not to burst with urgent questions. Making a mental note that this was _so_ something that he would need to ask Bumblebee about when he got back, _if_ he got back, he floated and watched as everything unfolded in a distorted mess. His past self was moaning on a bench with a cracking headache and delusional gibberish, Bee was acting weird with a heavy dash of concern and annoyance, and just by the side hidden by a couple of rocks Sam could see flashes of red and yellow swinging around in circles. Apparently, Bee saw the latter too, because his facial expression took a one eighty and morphed straight into frightening when he saw the tell tale sign of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker standing in the corner.

"Sideswipe," He growled "Sunstreaker."

Still vexatious even in the face of impending anger and possibly pain, Sideswipe walked over, hair gleaming under the flashing lights. His brother followed behind him, a dark presence that contrasted against his brother's happy yet mischievous nature. Both of them, mirror images except in colour, glided halfway towards Sam and Bumblebee, then stopped before they got too close. A wise move, if the constant shifts of gears from Bumblebee's Camaro form in the parking area next to them was an indication of aggression.

"Hello there, Bumblebee," Sideswipe greeted, smiling in hidden amusement. "Enjoying your time?"

A soft snarl was his reply. "Why did you do this to him?"

"The boy looked out of place," A step forward and Sunstreaker was in the light, his beautiful figure for all to see. "He seemed... lonely, so we decided to -"

"Spike his drink." Quiet anger coated beneath his calm words, Bumblebee glared at the nonchalant twins and finished Sunstreaker's sentence. Enraged beyond all reason at the irresponsible actions of the brothers, and his own lack of attention to his charge, Bumblebee growled again. Unable to physically express his rage due to the close presence of his organic ward, he refrained, and _how_. Metal linings crunched beneath his replicated hands, and the groaning crackle of wood sounded as the bench he was bending over splintered under his powerful arms.

Yet, not one bit harmed his charge in any way.

_How dare they_.

Sideswipe waved his hand again, still as elegant as ever, even in face of danger. "C'mon Bumblebee, don't tell me you didn't enjoy the little hug there." He teased, "From how you've been mooning the entire time, we'd thought you'd be jumping for joy right now."

Bumblebee stiffened, a solid figure in the dark, then with a sudden grind of gears from his Cybertronian form, he fizzed out of sight. Then, with a series of sounds the Yellow Camaro in the parking area transformed into a familiar yellow mech. Pushing aside the cars that surrounded him in a hefty sweep, he charged at the twins. Seeing the dawning comprehension on their faces, ghost Sam panicked. His old self was still in the way and Bumblebee was running this way!

With a large jump, the furious scout soared over the various obstacles in front of him. Just a little distance away from his intended destination he increased his speed, and not far way from Sam the twins too fizzed away; while from the parking area more sounds of changing were heard. Sam despaired; this was so not going to end well.

Instead of going after his transforming targets though, for some unexplainable reason Bumblebee continued charging. Suddenly he leaped over the bench and scooped Sam up against his warm chest plate, shielding him with his remaining arm while the urge to regurgitate revisited both Sam's again. Gulping frantically, ghost Sam called out his guardian's name even though he knew that the other would not hear.

"Bumblebee?"

A flash of light shone out bright from his left, and almost immediately a surge of heat accompanied it. Emitting a pained grunt, Bumblebee turned around and braced himself for impact while protecting his charge. The ground shook under the patter of feet, big and small, as screams and calls for arm shouted across the area. From where Sam was huddled against his protector's chest, he could the screech of incoming projectiles as they whistled through the air, seeking for their targets.

"Bumblebee!"

Metres away from them, taller forms of red and gold danced in union, shooting out flares of light and thunder. Poetic movements in sync, they mowed down their appearing enemies with grace and grandeur, efficiency at its greatest. Not far from them, the neon brightness of Ratchet's paint shined bright in the midst of fire as he decapitated enemies with his buzzsaw.

"Bumblebee," Ratchet called again, his voice carrying clearly over the sounds of firing. "Get Sam out of here!"

Nodding in a silent affirmative, the scout dashed away with his charge tucked safely against him. Not being able to leave his past self's side, ghost Sam was tugged along violently for the ride. A sudden twist and a sudden jump there was starting to grate on both their nerves, and when Bumblebee suddenly jarred to a stop to avoid a flying enemy crashing into a gapping pile or rocks, courtesy of Ironhide's menacing bulk and power, the Sam's were flirting with the line of unconsciousness and violent expulsion of items best unmentioned. One more sudden jump and both were sure that they would cross it.

Just when Bumblebee finally managed to assume a more steady pace, much to the more sober one's relief, a large object crashed in front of them. Skidding to a halt with cannon ablaze, Bumblebee backtracked rapidly and tried to avoid combat. Unfortunately, when the object unravelled himself from a ball of moving tentacles, one shot out and wrapped around the smaller mech's leg. Tugging his feet out from under him, Soundwave snarled, a foreboding sound that reeked of pain, as he floated up in a baleful manner.

"Autobot: Hand over the boy, Soundwave: Spare you" He called.

Bumblebee roared, unspoken defiance in his tone. "Never!"

Tossing Sam up high in the air, the furious scout released his arsenal against the silver mech, igniting a roar from the other as some missiles from the scouts shoulder launchers hit him smack bang on his chest. Slinging out an electrical stinger, a new weapon recently installed, Bumblebee sliced through the offending tentacle holding him down then reached for his charge as he dropped down from the air.

Catching him in a manner that was surprisingly familiar, just like the one he did underneath the bridge, Bumblebee dashed away and left the stumbling Decepticon behind him.

However, he did not succeed doing so for long.

Another blur tackled him from the side, and to avoid his charge from turning into splatter when crushed beneath the two struggling Cybertronians, Bumblebee released him into the air yet again. Hoping fervently that the boy would land somewhere safe. Thankfully, his hopes turned out to have merit as just when Sam was about to land somewhere on the ground with a gift of broken bones and bruises, a red mech caught him squarely in the hands. "I got him, Bumblebee! Slag that Fragger!"

Snarling in compliance, the scout proceeded to do so.

"Sideswipe," Eternally calm, the golden mech next to the red shot lazily at an approaching enemy and gestured for his brother to follow. "Come, we have to get the boy out of here."

Swiping an enemy's head straight off his shoulder with a swing of his deadly blade, Sideswipe acknowledged the statement. Dodging enemy fire with relative ease as his brother retaliated with a vicious bout of shots, he ran across the area for hidden ground. Halfway through several mech's tried to jump him, regardless of the glaring fact that Sideswipe was very much a veteran in arm-to-arm combat with his sharp blades and agile speed, and true to his reputation of as one of the best, he dispatched them all with no more than a shift of arms.

A rough jostle as the red twin avoided a nasty plasma shot shook past-Sam out of his delirious stupor (Being thrown around half-drunk wasn't kind on the body). Eyes alarmingly wide, he whipped his head around in a rapidly failing grasp of reality. "Bee?" He called, "Bumblebee?"

Busy ripping off another Decepticon's arm, Sideswipe didn't answer, but his silent brother walked up to his side and glanced at Sam calmly as he shot another mech through the chest. "Bumblebee is engaging another enemy." He said "You will see him later."

Dizzy, dizzy. Oh so dizzy. Space was turning into a cyclone of colours and noise, and Sam, corporal and not, were both clinging onto the edge of reality, slowly slipping into the unknown. Lucidity at this point was a mere word, something hiding away from the chaos and pain.

"Who..." are you, sentence not finished a hand rose up shakily against Sam's own mouth. Trying fitfully not to heave on the mech's glossy paint, he slumped weakly against the mech's chassis. "Who..."

"Don't you remember us, Sam?" Another slice and another foe down, "Here I thought that we had a bond."

Such a familiar voice. One associated with mischief and a quick grin. Who was it again? Sam (Sam's) didn't know anymore, everything was just so _hazy_.

"I don't think he remembers, Sideswipe."

"Really. Can't have that now, can we?" Fizzing, and a cool hand formed over him, followed by with the dashing figure of a red haired male. Scooping Sam up easily in his arms, the male jumped off the still mech's hand in an easy leap, landing solidly on his feet. Walking towards an area covered by various bushes and trees, he placed Sam down within them, covering him with leaves when he was done. When Sam tried to protest, he shushed him with a finger to the mouth a wink. "Quiet, don't want them finding you again now, won't we? B'sides, you don't remember my name, and isn't that rude?"

So if he guessed his name right, did that mean that the male would take him out of the prickly bush? Much like Bumblebee in the stubborn criteria, Sam raised an arm and slapped it hard against the male's chest, then slapped it again for good measure because of the rock that was digging painfully into his spine. Hand remaining against the area he had whacked, he guessed the males name in rapid succession, getting it horribly wrong on his first two tries.

It had something to do with 'Side'. "Sidewipe"

That wasn't right, it was more dangerous. "Sidehype"

No, something about a car...

"Brother," As much as Sunstreaker was amused in watching his brother's designation get botched, they had to get back to the battlefield. The human would be safe here, and if they let a scrambler off, no mech would be able to find him under the heavy smell of trees and sea water. Unless, of course, they stepped on him.

Stepped on him... Suddenly, the idea didn't seem that safe anymore. Nevertheless, they couldn't run back with him and neither of them could leave and deprive the Autobots of their best.

"Coming, Sunny." Unwrapping Sam's hand from his shirt (The boy had a tough grip), Sideswipe started to stand up. Then, he immediately got jerked back down again when Sam grasped his shirt and pulled aggressively.

Sam snarled, he would guess the name and escape the bush.

A soft snicker and Sunstreaker formed his own holoform to help his brother with the increasingly eccentric human. Ignoring the dirty look that Sideswipe gave him, he leaned over the struggling holoform and gazed in interest at the groggy human. "Doesn't he have spirit."

"Oh yes, he does." Sideswipe agreed, trying to wrestle the boy's hand away from his chest again. "As much as I appreciate it though, I don't think that this is the best time."

Disregarding Sideswipe's frustrated attempts at gently dislodging him, Sam whined. He was so close, the name was in grasp now. It was something to do with a risky car manoeuvre with a Side in front. It was...

Slapping his hand in a renewed attempt of guessing against Sideswipe's upper right chest area, Sam crowed in victory. He remembered now! "Sideswipe!" He yowled, "Sideswipe!" Now he could get out of the bush!

The holoforms stared at him, one with a befuddled look and the other with an amused smile. Patting his brother on his shoulder, Sunstreaker gave a low whistle and a dark grin. "Wasn't that unexpected," He said, just as his mech form reached into a nearby tree and crushed a shrieking object to pieces. Opps, guess they were too late in leaving and were found out. Better take the boy now.

"Make haste, brother." the golden mech said, hand dripping with the glowing pink of energon. "The Decepticon's will not wait." Turning around, he started back for the battlefield, leaving Sideswipe with the bush-weary human and his own decisions to make.

Looking at the destroyed figure of the mini Decepticon on the ground, Sideswipe stilled. They would know that the human was here, and would most likely come soon. Should he still risk him like this or bring him back with him? Should he... Sighing loudly over the whole absurdity of the situation, Sideswipe reached for the boy and carried him up again. Jogging to his mech form, he placed the boy on his larger hand and disintegrated. Perhaps he could hand Sam to Bumblebee when they met again.

He wouldn't have chosen any other choice anyway.

Rising to his feet, the red mech started his trek back. Giving out a sigh every once in a while, he kept his optics out for the sign of any Decepticons.

"Sideswipe wat-"

Without warning, a collision from his back startled him. Hearing his brother's frantic call a fraction too late, he twisted in the air to avoid landing on the human and turned around to face his enemy just as he crashed. Extending out his guns, he aimed for a close shot and a hopeful retreat. Instead, before he could shoot a long blade pierced his arm swiftly, severing the entire thing in one go.

Sideswipe howled.

"Shockwave!"

Another angry howl and this time it was from Sunstreaker, inflamed and fuming over his twin's pain. Shooting out a barrage of shots at the large mech standing stoically on top of the injured Autobot, Sunstreaker charged at him with a deadly gaze. Smoothly bracing himself, the mech didn't bother with any retaliation and merely absorbed the impact as the golden mech crashed into him with an almighty bang. Grappling the mech, Soundwave extended claws that the twins knew he hadn't had before and dug it deep into the frontliner's polished back. Giving a choked scream, Sunstreaker struggled with the pain, then suddenly collapsed in a heap.

Sideswipe stared with wide optics from where he was lying.

"No. No. Nonononono..."

Pushing himself up with his remaining hand as Sam slid off it and hit the ground with a soft thump, the red mech gazed in horror at his downed twin. He wasn't moving. He wasn't moving. _Why wasn't he moving_?

_He's dead_.

"No!" Shrieking madly, the remaining twin bucked up and ran at the looming Decepticon, raising his blade to gut the Fragger. Ignoring the slow shots that the mech was shooting at him with nary a glance, he tried to slash at Shockwave, nearly forgetting the new addition to his arsenal. Shockwave dodged easily, reloading his guns with practiced ease as the beserking Autobots tried to cut him again. Aiming calmly, he shot off a paralysing bullet to the back of the red mech as he escaped yet another swipe. Watching as the mech tried to raise himself from the ground, Soundwave gave an analytic review of the short fight with a monotone. "Anger is not beneficial to a battle. It inhibits you."

"I'll kill you!"

"Not today."

"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker!" Yelling out worriedly, ghost-Sam floated above his breathing body and looked on in concern at the mech that was slowly raising his blade for another slash, presumably a lethal one this time. Gazing down at himself, he kicked his downed body and screeched for him to damn-it get up and do something! Sadly, as he was merely a spectre viewing a past memory, he couldn't do anything and his foot just passed through past-Sam. By some unknown luck though, just at that moment, past-Sam groaned loudly.

Shockwave stopped.

Turning around menacingly, he gazed around and focused on the spot at which the weakened human lay. Lowering his blade, he walked over slowly. "No!" Sideswipe screeched behind him, "Don't you dare harm him!"

Stopping before the human, Shockwave knelt down, hands outstretched to grab the boy. Tossing aside the red mech's threats as useless due to his incacipated status, the mech raised the dizzy human in the air and stared at him blankly with one glowing optic. This was him. This was Samuel Witwicky.

"Target acquired." Holding the human tightly in a hand, the dangerous Decepticon walked off with the boy, leaving the twins behind him. Having a larger gait than them, his hands swung a lot more, and he also was capable of leaving the area much quicker than any of them in the current scenario. It was a terrible situation, with one Autobot presumably dead, and the other one unable to move and easy picking. Having no combat abilities and the other too dizzy, the Sam's were also helpless. Or maybe, not so helpless.

Unable to hold it in any longer over the constant bings and bangs he had taken, past-Sam puked gloriously all over Shockwave's offending hand. Jerking to a halt, the mech stared at the moaning boy in a horrid manner. There was organic substances all over his limb, and its pH level was low, indicating an acidic type substance.

Acid.

If Shockwave wasn't supposed to kill the boy, he would have done so then and there. He had vomited on him! Transferring the pale human onto another hand, the Decepticon flung his affected limb out into the air, emulating a human gesture of shaking to get rid of liquid. Unfortunately, vomit... was vomit.

Increasing distressed and irritated, the mech continued to shake his arm madly, making himself look like a giant tantrum throwing child. When the remnants still refused to drop off, he glared at the sheepish ghost and the perpetrator of the event. "Human," He called, still in a monotone. "Clean this."

Sam's IQ had dropped too far down for a proper answer, "Bwa?"

"Clean this." Another demand.

"Who you?"

"My designation is Shockwave, you have committed this atrocity on me. Now, clean this."

Even intoxicated and severely bruised, Sam knew a bad situation when he saw one. Angering a giant robot was not good. Hence, he refused to clean.

"No," Priorities were skewered, he was not good at such things anyway.

"What?" Not believing that the 'squishy' was really defying him, Shockwave brought him closer to his single optic. Shouldn't he possess more survival instincts?

"Don't wanna." Drunk Sam whined, "Want Bumblebee."

(In the background Sam slapped his forehead, what was this ridiculous scenario?)

Shockwave loomed again, a threatening figure. "I do not have Bumblebee, but you will clean me, boy."

A raspberry was blown in retaliation, defiance radiating every single second of the whole action.

"You-" Face getting alarmingly close to the human's, Shockwave shot a venomous look at the stubborn boy. Where was this courage coming from? Illogical. Simply illogical.

A silent click to the head from behind. "Let the boy down, Decepticon."

Turning around slowly, and snapping out of his personal feud with the giggly human, Shockwave stared at his suddenly surrounded state. When did they... Right, when he was having a one sided argument with the human. Cursing himself over his inattentiveness, Shockwave calculated his current possibilities of escaping with his objective. The possibilities did not agree positively with him, there was simply too many Autobots to outrun all at the same time. Maybe if he...

"If you threaten him, I will _blow_ your head off." Looking over at the yellow scout standing to the left of him, Soundwave paused his current thought. He _could_ still threaten the boy, but looking at how furious the Autobots were, they would most likely take his head off first.

"Let's just do it anyway."

The red mech was up, paralyzed systems presumably fixed by the kneeling medic next to him. Already, his gun was up and charging, a cerulean blue colour glowing brightly at its tip.

"Refrain, Sideswipe." Authority and power ringing in his voice, Optimus Prime walked out of the midst of Autobots and stationed himself close to the purple mech. Gun cocked and plasma sword at his side, the tall mech stood imposingly in front of his enemy and his hostage. "Decepticon," He repeated "Place the boy down, and we will spare you."

Seeing as there was no more to gain, Shockwave pondered the order. From what he knew of Prime, he was a mech that kept his word, and this was possibly the scenario of best benefit towards him. Even if he ran, the trigger happy weapon specialist and the yellow and red Autobot would most likely grapple and shoot him down anyway, be damned the cost. Of course, he had the boy; but somehow he had an inclination that if he used him as a shield he'd get shot in the face before he even tried. As such, the most logical decision would be to...

Hand held human already rising subconsciously in front of his chassis in a position to hand him over, Shockwave suddenly stopped in confusion, earning him an angry smack and a sullen growl of him designation from the angered boy. Why was he considering surrender? Though the prospects of escape were slim, it was unlike his programming to even consider giving up in such an insightful manner. So what if he couldn't run successfully, despite the Autobots threats they still would not shoot with killing intent if he had the boy. So why...

There was a disconcerting lull across the clearing now, and processor full of suspicion and confusion, Shockwave looked up from his objective.

The Autobots were all staring at him in horror.

What? What had he done? He didn't do anything to the boy, he was still scowling at him from below in a drunken haze. So, what did he do? The yellow scout was beginning to look positively homicidal now. What...

Oh.

Then suddenly, the ground underneath everyone's feet exploded, and all faded into darkness.

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><p>Sam stared at the suddenly empty darkness that surrounded him.<p>

What on earth... Oh, his memory must have ended, which meant he probably had fainted just then. A pity, he wanted to see what else had happened.

Reaching out to see if he could touch anything, he was not quite surprised to find out that he could not reach any solidity. Speaking of solidity... That was one vivid flashback, combined with re-experienced pain and all. If he had to go through one of those again, he would so hit first and ask later, his opponent be damned. The trauma of going through several whip lashes and stomach expulsions was not worth it.

Seriously.

Leaning back against empty space, Sam wiped his mouth idly (He might have joined past-Sam in vomiting when he was swung around like a rag doll) then pondered about what he had learnt throughout the hours in the past.

He had learnt... Absolutely nothing about the wedding...

"Shit"

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><p>And... Tada! Chapter 3!<p>

Thank you very much to all those that reviewed and added my fanfic to their fav or alert list! Wind is supa happy!

Now... This flashback thing might garner a lot of questions as such let me first say something... This is not just a flashback and instead something a bit more. Memory jogging and all is fine, but the stuff Starscream gave out was also a kind of chemical that filled in the blanks and clarifies stuff. So, when past-Sam was all fuzzed up and burying his head. All the noise he subconsciously heard and all was loaded into his mind and after meeting the chemical replayed in a suitable fashion that best fit the scenario.

As for what Sam remembers when he was actually talking, the chemical works magic, and it clarified stuff. A LOT!

The stuff that happened up there is accurate as what had happened that night... and so, did Sam learn anything or not... Who knows... Maybe he did... Just... Subconsciously.

Guessing game. On.

Next up: The Wedding!

Wind of the Dawn writes faster with reviews, as such please leave a line of thought...

Thank you and hope you enjoyed it...

Wind of the Dawn out~

And remember ... Not all is what it seems... Read carefully


	4. Interlude: Starscream

Disclaimer: Transformers, anything to do with it, and any other characters mentioned in this story do not belong to me in any shape or form. This story is not written or used in any commercial purposes. Basically, I do not own anything!

By: Wind of the Dawn

Interlude: Starscream

Warnings: Extreme crack, language, slash, and some ooc abound. If you don't like it, then please don't read it. And remember, not all stunts are possible, so **do not** try anything mentioned in here. Aside from that, other dangerous and harmful behaviour/actions should not be tried or done _anywhere_.

Roar of the day: Exams are here, hence the interlude instead of real chapter...

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><p>Starscream stared in dismal over the interior state of his cockpit, clamping his scenting receptors shut as tight as he could. Halfway through his reluctant journey with the boy through the ocean blue sky, the infernal brat had the guts to <em>regurgitate<em> all over him, splashing his dashboard and seat with disgusting and acidic organic juice.

_Acidic_!

Did the boy know how troublesome it was to get rid of the substance and its particular effects? It was notoriously hard, that's what! And the _smell_. Starscream resisted the urge to gag and scowled morbidly as his engine gave out a foreboding rumble. Deliberate or not, this act of defilement would not go unpunished, or his designation was not _Starscream_.

(It was a well known fact that amongst the Decepticons that Starscream was somewhat melodramatic at some times. He had the right to anyway, considering that their entire cohort was sometimes of a few screws loose.)

At least the boy wasn't choking to death in his back seat, Starscream could almost imagine his other's thunderous face, _if_ he could exhibit one, glaring at him through miles of space between them with the intention to maul if anything happened to the human boy. Well, the boy was currently ill and less than sanitary, but that was brought on by himself because of his lack of resilience in witnessing his past memories. Maybe though, just maybe, he was really sick... Or not.

Putting on a burst of speed (Screw safety, Starscream was covered in substances that had been through an organics' digestive tracks), the irritated seeker cut through the air like a hot knife through butter and flew to his intended destination with trails of smoke tailing behind him in a wispy line. Speaking of safety...

A few minutes of dangerous flying and Starscream could just barely spot the pristine roof of their revenue through the fluffy white clouds, and contrasted with its beautiful white paint was the dark amour of the boy's marriage partner. Moments away from a restricted landing, feelings of doom and retribution were already plaguing Starscream's overheating processor. There was only so much you could stress about before a break down occurred, and the glare of doom was not helping one bit. Never mind that for the moment though, if his landing was less than perfect and caused him to crash into some unknown architecture, Starscream would have more than the looming mech to deal with.

Property damage was after all, expensive.

Wheels rolling out from beneath him, Starscream landed on the narrow stripe of land available to him and skidded to a stop perfectly, something only attainable by those that were none human and experienced in the art of dangerous landing. Bright sparks spitting from his metallic gears as they grinded under pressure, he positioned himself and rolled slowly over to the expressionless mech. A quick ping from his communications device was the only greeting that he offered to the stoic mech. Likewise, the other also offered a non-existent nod in the head as a greeting before walking over.

A quick look at the vomit covered human within the cockpit and a dark frown started forming. "Starscream, why is my intended covered in acidic substances?"

Starscream quickly replied to do massive damage control; he could already see the thunder clouds bristling in the air. "The boy wished to re-enact his memories of the past through a dose of Cybertronian chemicals, and I indulged him. The organic substance is presumably the side effects of his subconscious viewing."

"In other words, you are claiming innocence."

Yes, yes, Starscream was. After all, it wasn't his fault that the irksome human had decided to regurgitate all over his soft leather seats with his stomach fluids. Who would have known that the boy would be so... _sensitive_? The most Starscream expected the boy to experience was perhaps a mild headache from his little mind trip back in time; he certainty did not expect a rainbow of fluids. If the seeker had known that this would have happened, he wouldn't have given the boy the means to refresh his memory, mallet or fiancée be damned!

... Okay, maybe he would have done so to avoid the mallet, but if it was only the other party that was going to harass him he would have just clonked the boy to sleep! Let him explain for himself his negligent loss of memory.

(Starscream was, as always, a little unreasonable.)

As the seeker was about to open his non-existent mouth and answer the brooding mech's statement, he paused; It was technically the truth that he had no deliberate intention in harming the boy by giving him a lungful of the chemical, as Cybertronian's had never exhibited any negative symptoms in using it; but that was the point, Cybertronian's were protected against the ill effects, not humans. Would the imposing mech in front of him think that Starscream had deliberately brought harm to his intended?

Even worse, if the human woke up suddenly and started spewing clips of his non-existent memories and forgotten promises? Starscream might as well have wedged an apple red target upon his chest. There were easier ways to get a one way ticket to wherever the Fallen and the Primes were now, presumably engaging in intense bouts of greetings and sibling rivalry, less painful ones as well, and _this way not one way_.

Primus knew how many times Starscream have shivered, disturbed (Not scared. _Never_ scared) over the unique class of trauma that the other mech had dished out routinely, blank expression stuck firmly on his face with the strength of industrial classed superglue. If the seeker had not been second-in-command to Megatron and his ever raging temper, he would gotten the frag out of a ten, _no_, thousand mile radius of the other. Sadly, he was, hence despite his increasing urge to get the slag out of sight, Starscream had to restrain his wants and stay by the warlord's side, ever loyal in his attempts of usurping his... I mean, obeying, his orders.

"I reserve my comment on the scenario," Better not decide on anything yet, the day seemed out to get him, "But I would suggest that before you fly into a resultant rage we clean the boy up first?" It couldn't be sanitary for Samuel Witwicky to spend a good portion of his day in vilely decorated clothing, the smell might stick, and no one wanted to watch a wedding with one party smelling like a mixture of prawns and oranges now did they?

A thoughtful grind of gears and the dark mech stopped in his route to offing Starscream. Logic systems skipping jauntily, the preferred result for the scenario was flashed smoothly into his processor. Indeed, the health of his intended was of more importance for the moment. Therefore, claws reaching back subtly, the mech gave Starscream a curt nod and a silent warning of "I'll be back", then walked nonchalantly into the building.

Starscream sighed, the bullet was dodged for now, with a couple of thousands more to come. Obviously the other's departure had meant that his advice on cleaning the human up was agreed with, which somehow had left him, _naturally_, to do the job.

For all the meaning the title second-in-command had, it might as well have just been 'abuse me'. Nobody, except his trine or times when Megatron's sharp optics were seeking for failure, saw fit to obey him. As always, they just left him with all the work to do.

Hydraulics humming fitfully, Starscream muffled his anger and wheeled slowly over to the previously small entrance that had been modified to be able to contain large metal robots the size of buildings. Tyres spinning he angled himself to enable entrance and then slowly moved in.

Halfway through, he found himself stuck.

His wings were too long to cross.

Werving his engines Starscream tried to inch his way carefully through the doorway, hoping to pass in one piece. Unfortunately, reality _would not budge_. If you were bigger than it and unable to compensate in some manner, the only way you could cross was if something-

*Crack*

-Snapped off.

The whole thing was not off to a good start.

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><p>Thank you to all those that reviewed and added this to their fav and alert list!<p>

Cookies to those that could spot that Wind was a tad bit hurried when she wrote this. Exams are here, and though she really should be studying, It. Is. So. Distracting! Plus, she also felt bad for not updating for a month. Never fear though, after a while, updates will resume...

For those who were expecting a new chapter, sorry for the interlude. Couldn't really work up to writing another one when I was in such a harried state, hence the interlude.

Brrrrr.

Wind of the Dawn out~


	5. Of Weddings and Traditions

Disclaimer: Transformers, anything to do with it, and any other characters mentioned in this story do not belong to me in any shape, way, or form. This story is not written or used in any commercial purposes. Basically, I do not own anything!

By: Wind of the Dawn

Chapter 4 Of Weddings and Traditions I

Warnings: Extreme crack, language, slash, and some ooc abound. If you don't like it, then please don't read it. And remember, not all stunts are possible, so **do not** try anything mentioned in here. Aside from that, other dangerous and harmful behaviour/actions should not be tried nor done _anywhere_.

Roar of the day: They are over! Over I tell you! Over! Yet, I DO NOT FEEL BETTER! ARGHHHHHH. If I fail my subjects, _I will scream_.

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><p><em>Primus was out to get Sam.<em>

* * *

><p><em>10.05 am<em>

"Are you ready?"

"Of course, I'm always ready."

"Don't be too cocky, things could go wrong."

A snort, "Knowing them, everything will go wrong."

"Let us hope so then, move out." Roaring of engines and a screech of wheels against concrete.

"Don't worry too much; your princess will be fine. Probably waiting for you right now."

Annoyance, then worry.

"I hope so." _Wait for me, Sam_.

* * *

><p><em>1.25 pm<em>

Sam felt a hysterical laugh bubble up his throat, threatening to smother him in fits of uncontrollable laughter and tears. Restraining himself with patience gained throughout the years by chasing Mojo around the yard to salvage half-eaten homework and dealing with his mother's eccentricity, he gulped down a deep breath and tried hard to stop his shaky jabbering.

He wasn't very successful.

Pitchy squeaks escaping from his wobbling lips, Sam stared straight with his face slowly morphing into a sad sight of embarrassment and disbelief. This was unbelievable. Utterly ridiculous. He was looking at one of the most gorgeous figures that he had ever seen in his life, and here he was acting like an idiot, face bordering on furnace red and hyperventilation approaching T-minus five seconds.

In front of him, face framed by delicately styled bangs, a willowy young lady looked back at Sam with soulful chocolate eyes. Soft pink lips pouting up at the disrespect that was being shown to her, her cheeks trembled, baby pink blush highlighting it just right. Gloved hands smoothed down slowly on her figure hugging dress while carefully sown on crystals sparkled dazzlingly under the lights in an elaborate pattern of flowers and mystique words, and soft lace obscured her heel clad feet. Flowers adorned her hair, crowning her while the rest of her long wavy hair swooped down her back in a wavy tide. A fine necklace circled her neck, the perfect complement to the strapless wedding gown she wore.

She was beautiful, almost as beautiful as Mikaela, and if Sam had met her on a normal day he would have been head over heels for her. Don't get him wrong, even if it were not a normal day, he still would have been. She was, after all, very much a gorgeous one. There was, however, a slight problem to him liking her...

As if privy to Sam's rampaging thoughts of 'No' and 'Omg's', the young lady before him lifted her hand and brushed it nervously through her artistically arranged hair. Behind Sam, an annoyed snarl sounded, no doubt from the artist of the art as it was once more tempered with by shaky hands. What was the problem with her? She was beautiful, a soft flame of lustre colours and gentle curves. From appearance alone, she was a gem, and surely her personality wasn't _that_ bad. So what was wrong with her?

Was it because he was supposed to get married to someone he didn't know at all?

Yes, that was an issue. A very important one; but that was not what Sam was concerned with at the moment. What Sam was concerned with at the moment was the fact that, ah, how to put it, the lady in front of him was _his fucking reflection on a mirror_.

"No!" Screeching loudly, Sam turned around to face his tormenters and threw his glove covered limbs around in agitation. Smacking his grandiose surrounding and earning a few bruises, he managed to drop a bouquet of blood red roses on the floor and stomped his delicate shoe onto the ground in a fit of temper along with it. He didn't care if his heels were snapping from an inappropriate amount of stress on it. He didn't care if his wavy hair was now better resembling a bird's nest. All he cared about was the fact that he was_ in a fucking dress looking like a blushing virgin_.

"NO!"

Looking calmly at the progressing destruction of the room and the masterpiece that was now stomping around it like an elephant, Starscream's holoform, a silver haired male with a sharp nose and mirthful eyes, nodded his head victoriously at himself. Revenge was achieved. Besides him, another male with an elaborate hairdo that somehow defied the Law of Physics with a barrage of colours colouring it gave out a strangled sound of pure horror. His art was being mauled not three minutes after its recipient woke up, and the wedding hadn't even started yet. At this rate, the bride was going to present himself in a bundle of mess, radiant happiness and madness optional.

Unable to just sit down and take the blatant disrespect of his work (The gown was ripping, he could just _hear_ it), Hook poked Starscream in the ribs and asked a question that _burned_ to be asked since the bride had started his rampage of doom.

"Are you sure he's not insane?"

"It's merely the excitement," Starscream replied, eyebrow lifting slightly as he watched Sam deliver an impressive sucker punch to a nearby couch. "It makes him... prone to over reaction."

Prone to over reaction. Right. Eyebrows furrowed in suspicion, Hook turned to watch the human drop kick another furniture. This was not just over reaction; this was more like an overwhelming hatred for all that was happening. From the looks of the boy's actions (Such unsightly manners), Starscream might as well have replaced the word 'excitement' with 'intention to eliminate'. _That_ was how much anger the human was practically discharging off himself. Hook half expected the ungrateful brat (There went his carefully arranged hair pieces, dropping off Sam's hair as he attempted to complete the Tango using only his head) to start self-combusting any minute now.

"You certain that he's not insane?"

"Certainly, yes." Starscream personally thought that Samuel Witwitcky was a case of selective disruption rather than insane. The way he just suddenly decided to go off his rockets was almost rhythmic, with the presence of Decepticons being its main trigger. One minute he was all calm and accepting; the next he was uttering strings of 'no' like a broken record and tripping over his own shoelaces.

Strange boy, he was, and Starscream thanked Primus that he was not the one that would end up being the boy's sparkmate.

Still humming in disbelief, Hook glanced again at Sam. His alien senses were tingling and warning him of imminent danger. Maybe it would be better if he lay off the questioning, though really, he was quite certain that humans were not meant to go that red in the face.

Just as if Hook's wandering thoughts had summoned him, Sam turned around with vengeance in his eyes and walked menacingly to where the two holoforms were seated. His elongated hair already starting to defy logic through the pure _fury_ that plagued him, he trudged over and screeched to a halt in front of them, teeth flashing all the time in a rare display of anger.

Hook inched down into his comfy seat and tried to melt into the wall.

"You," Finger rising to point shakily at Starscream, Sam did an admirable job at invading his personal space. "_You_."

Starscream acknowledged his statement consentingly. "Me."

A choked gurgle emitted from the depths of the bride-to-be's throat, the urge to just_ faint _again nudged him _hard_ at the back of his mind, like a very annoying finger, and Sam squashed it flat through red hot infuriation. This travesty upon his manly pride would not go unpunished, _or his name was not Samuel James Witwicky_.

(Somehow or another there was this nagging feeling that the line was getting overused already.)

"You, _get this off me this instant_."

Brushing off the unnecessary violation of his privacy bubble through eons of practice, Starscream stared dully at the boy, his spark doing a victorious jig within his chest. As if he'd let the boy get off so easily after he defaced his inner controls. No, the humiliation would be completed. "Boy," Starscream said, expressions tightly controlled to withhold the utter glee he felt. "I cannot do so."

A narrow of brown eyes skilfully accompanied by shades of eye shadow. "_You can't_?"

"I cannot."

"_And why_," A foot positioned itself dangerously close to important regions settled on the couch. "_Is that_?"

Completely unfazed by the unspoken threat, Starscream looked up at the looming brunet and accessed his current mood. Should he continue messing with the agitated human? _Yes_.

"I cannot, because I do not know how to." Oh, joy. The boy's face was turning fire red now. How entertaining. "Hook, however, knows how." Might as well drag the other down together.

Given a new target, Sam's heated glare cranked slowly around and focused with renewed heat upon his latest victim. From where he was seated, crawling desperately into the back of the couch in an attempt in becoming one with the flowery designs, Hook shot a betrayed look at Starscream, silently conveying feelings of betrayal and sadness. Opening his mouth in a highly indiscreet manner to accuse Starscream of being a traitor, he paused, suddenly realizing that after spending millennia's as Megatron's punching bag with added service of being called a traitor almost every second day, such an accusation would probably just be brushed off like an insect to a twenty foot robot with laser guns. _Mounted_, laser guns.

"_You_, _Hook_," Sam was doing a marvellous impression of Megatron at his worst. "_You will remove this garment_, _**now**_."

Giving a feeble little smile (Why was the human so scary?), Hook, the poor mech, tried to find a safe way to tell the enraged bride that sorry, he couldn't do that, cause' the wedding was going to start soon and he really didn't think that anyone would appreciate seeing Sam naked as he went to greet his intended partner. There was something called public decorum; and even though they were Decepticons bent on taking over the world, _they abided by it damn it_.

Smile getting fainter as he slowly realized that there was absolutely no way he would get out of this awkward encounter without a scratch by expressing his inner opinion to the boy, Hook panicked and thought that for a moment, just for moment, Sam looked like he had snakes on his head.

_Wahhhh_, he thought, smile turning into something less encouraging and more miserable.

"Well?" Sam said, impatience coating his voice. "Are you going to get this off me or not? _Don't make me make you_."

Fake muscles spasming to keep his face intact, Hook tried once more to explain his plight to the human. Surely he would not be _that_ unreasonable. "Sam, I'm afraid that I can't do so. It would be inappropriate."

"Inappropriate," If Sam's eyebrows went any higher they would fly off his face. "_Inappropriate_. So you think me wearing a wedding gown is appropriate behaviour."

There was this feeling that he was digging himself a deeper hole but for the sake of art and perfection Hook persisted and continued his butchered reasoning. "Well yes, of course. It is considered proper behaviour for a wedding partner to wed in clothing, is it not?"

Sam rubbed his forehead exasperatedly; for being beings of supreme intelligence Sam thought that they were actually pretty dumb. How could someone be so right and wrong at the same time? It was like they were plain made out of illogical juxtapositions; it was a wonder that they hadn't committed a horrid social accident yet. Oh, wait, _they had_; trying to take over the world.

"Hook," Sam growled, "I am not getting married in a _wedding gown_. If I am getting married, my _wife_ will be in a wedding gown."

"Wife?"

"The female side of the two." Starscream supplied helpfully.

"Yes, _yes_." Sam said, latching onto hope with a one tonne grip. Maybe they would finally see _sense_. "_The female_. I am not female."

Looking very much enlightened to the truths of the universe, Hook nodded his head, and Sam felt hope sprout into the air like a nimble sprout, waving its leaves in the sign that all was turning well for the misunderstood boy.

(He still had not figured out why on earth this was happening.)

"Ahh, I understand now. Of course."

Yes, yes, now he could get out of this embarrassing situation and everything would fall in place-

"But as you are not, how do the humans put it? Ah, you are not the one wearing the pants in the relationship, it is natural that you then are the female equivalent right?"

You could hear a pin drop in the ensuing silence.

Starscream snorted. Oh, this was going to be _good_.

Flames rose from Sam's toes into his head; he had not felt such _anger_ in such a long time. That said, _all his life_. He couldn't take this anymore. Fuck being cordial, this was no longer a semi-polite conversation. This was _war_.

A shrill shriek erupting from his lungs, Sam faced the unseen sky and howled out loud like a banshee. Before him, Hook cringed, his auditory systems frying from the overwhelming screech; for a male, Sam could emit a pretty high shriek when he wanted to. Looking over to the Decepticon second-in-command, he silently sent an alarmed plea for help. If the boy didn't knock himself out from screaming first, then Hook would get a one way ticket to the afterlife later, with an extra dish of agony as a gift.

The rage. _The rage_.

"Starscream!" Hook yowled, his body trapped beneath Sam. "Starscream, help!"

Personally Starscream would have been content in watching the drama play out (It wasn't everyday you got to see a fellow robot get menaced by a tiny human and lose), but seeing as the boy was fast approaching the whistle register, he had better stop him before he damaged anything too critical, like bursting a blood vessel. Leaning down comfortably against the back of his side of the couch, the seeker threw a demeaning sneer at the Constructicon, silently berating him for his acceptance of the human's dominance over him. Even though they had been ordered (threatened) to treat the human like one of them, that didn't mean that they had to when no one of importance was around (coughhisfianceecough).

What right did he have to be called an equal to the Cybertronian's? They were stronger, faster, smarter, and more resilient; even as humans they were more enticing to the eye! The boy wasn't any of this. True, he possessed great bravery, bravery that eclipsed most of the mechs Starscream knew, and the swiftness he subconsciously acted with betrayed the true potential for power and speed that he could have in time. There was also his stubborn streak that was the size of the ocean trench they dropped Megatron in that propelled him to never stop moving-

Forcing his processor thoughts to skid to a halt, Starscream snarled. If he continued any longer he might as well back flip and re-write his personality code; he was already singing praises about the boy. So much for not equal.

_Though_, Starscream admitted begrudgingly, _Hook _had_ done a brilliant work_.

Even angry and raving mad, Samuel Witwicky painted a pretty picture with his flushed cheeks and blazing eyes, and if he wasn't already attractive before he definitely was now. Clad in a pearl white gown as he roared his fury to Primus, he seemed to glow before the Decepticon. In fact, he looked quite fitting of the epithet that Wheelie, the pathetic little turncoat, drove around calling the Mikaela girl. What was it?

_Warrior goddess_. Yes, that was it.

Not that Starscream was suddenly going to profess his undying love for the boy or, Primus forbid, actually call the brat 'Warrior Goddess' to his face (Starscream was disrespectful, not suicidal). Knowing the haze he was in, the seeker half expected Sam to attack first and think later if he ever did that. Primus knew that the human didn't really think before he acted sometimes. He probably wouldn't garner a lot of damage from a direct assault, but slag the boy could pack a punch.

Primus forbid he pull out a mallet too.

Meanwhile, Hook's yipping was getting progressively worse and if Starscream didn't know any better he would have thought that he was turning into a puppy. Luckily (or unluckily), Starscream was well aware of the inner terror that was Sam. Everything around him, unsightly or unique, _especially_ the easily overlooked items, tended to turn into alien destroying devices with an uncanny tendency. Proof? Think everything that happened since the Decepticons had the displeasure of meeting him.

Hopefully now that he was marrying into the fraction, club... Family? Their dismal luck of turning into flattened tin cans would change.

... Hopefully

Finally having enough of Hook's wailing about having zero respect and his work being ruined-ruined!-I tell you, Starscream stood up with a hollow sigh and prowled over to the still shrieking human (Primus, how long could he shriek?). As amused as he was over Hook's misfortune (those heels didn't look too comfortable), if the boy continued yowling any longer someone was bound to come stalking in demanding the ruckus to end, and wouldn't that be dandy. It was only a matter of time and who.

Positioning himself smoothly behind the fuming brunet (he had started stomping on the couch sometime during his thinking, and Hook wasn't very appreciative of that), the holoform prepared for grappling manoeuvres. Hooking his hands under Sam's arms, he suddenly began to lift him bodily from the couch, concentrating on avoiding the arms that reached back to grab him.

Unfortunately, he forgot the legs.

Dropping the human abruptly as Starscream himself rolled onto the ground from the result of a devastatingly placed kick, the seeker moaned out loud. Oh Primus... _the pain_.

On the couch, now free from a continuous barrage of pointy kicks, Hook looked down at his superior and guffawed. Served him right for not coming to his aid sooner.

Sam? Sam sat on the floor in a chaotic mess and silently fumed/brooded over his un-earned headache for the day.

* * *

><p><em>1.30 pm <em>

Judith Witwicky stood tearily at the entrance of a large enclosed area that was at least five stories high. Eyes shining with unshed tears, she took in the elegance of the decorated area. This was the place. This was the place her little Sammy was going to get _married_ in.

Long wisps of semi corporal mist dripped down from the ceiling like a waterfall, evaporating into the air (harmless, they had assured her) and emitting a soft fragrant smell. The floor was covered in glowing little symbols that the alien robots had told her was their native language, professing undying loyalty and love. All the windows within the area were replaced with sparkling crystals, reflecting the light that shined inside and spraying it across the floor in shards of glitter. It was pretty, beautiful even, and the elaborate stones that served as seats only added to the surrealism of the situation.

From a distance away (the area they had managed to rent was large), Judy could see her husband talking skittishly to another robot that was currently measuring the precise angle a particular object needed to be placed at to the tenth decimal point. He was taking the entire event surprisingly well, but was still horribly confused. Not that she could blame since the entire thing had occurred like a typhoon.

They had decided to use the Cybertronian style of wedding for the union of her little boy and... and... what was his name again? Something-wave.

Seeing how excited they actually were at the actual revival of a traditional Cybertronian ceremony, Judy hadn't the heart to deny the dears their wish of attending a ceremony thousands of years forgotten. Thus, now she and her husband were attending an alien wedding. Safe to say, it was a once in a life time occasion.

She was a little worried of Bumblebee though. The poor dear had spent the night mooning after Sam had been safely sent home by his intended and everything discussed through. Throughout the night Judy could hear little warbles of distress as her son slept like a rock. Then suddenly, between the cloak of night and the breaking of dawn, the scout had driven off in a flurry of dust, no doubt upset over the entire thing. Judy had wondered where he went, but considering that the Camaro may have wanted some time alone to brood over his unrequited crush, she left him alone. Not that she could chase him.

A crush. Yes, a crush. Judy may have not been the most normal of mother's but she certainly was a very perspective one. Sometime after the Autobot's introduction to the family ("Mom, put the bat down."), she had noticed that slowly by slowly, just like a trickle of sand down an hourglass, the Camaro started to act differently around her baby boy. First he started to bother Sam a little more, often convincing him to take rides with him around the area; then he started nudging Sam softly every time he came close enough to him. After that, whatever affection the scout held for her son started to bloom softly, like a shy morning glory under the sun. He never once disturbed the relationship between Sam and Mikeala though, and Judy admired him for that; it couldn't be easy to watch your love walk away with another person, but if Sam was happy then Bumblebee would do it a thousand times over.

And now, to think that when Bumblebee finally had a chance to try for the impossible, Sam was suddenly engaged and getting married to another. The scout must have been crushed.

She naturally had her own doubts of the sudden wedding of course; it was happening so fast, and she had never had the inclination that Sam had actually fallen in love after Mikaela had dumped him. Truth to be told, she had always thought that if he ever had a new interest, it would actually be Bumblebee. Sam may not have noticed it but he often took sneaky glances at his Camaro, and was awfully protective of him.

Oh well, though Judy would have loved to play matchmaker between the two, love was love. She didn't know how she missed it but her boy was apparently irreversibly in love with another stoic robot, and if that brought him happiness, who was Judy to deny him.

Still, there _was _something awfully suspicious about the situation... Or she might have been thinking too much.

(Somewhere far far away, a certain brunet that was currently wrestling with two other holoforms scowled morbidly. He didn't know why but he had the irrepressible urge to scream "Misunderstanding" in someone's face.)

Speaking of suspicious...

"Dear, why are there so many robots standing at the doorway?" They were all glaring at the empty road and it was blatantly disturbing.

A random robot turned around from his decorating, looking at her with well honed patience from regularly dealing with imbeciles. "My apologies Mrs Witwicky, but if you'd please refer to us as mechs or Decepticons? The terminology you are now employing is highly inaccurate." They were much more advanced than mere robots.

Nodding her head in acceptance and apology, Judy muttered. "Of course."

"Thank you," Graciously accepting the human female's apology, the mech, Thundercracker, answered her question to the best that he could. "The mechs are there to prevent unwanted disruptions."

"Unwanted... disruptions?"

"Yes," In other words, Autobots.

Confused, but strangely accepting of the very vague explanation, Judy pulled a Judy and just went with the flow. "Alright then. They look terribly bored though; wouldn't they prefer to have something to do?"

Thundercracker was still amazed about how accepting Judy could be. "You do not need to worry. They have plenty to do out there."

"They have?"

"Yes," Pointing towards the large horizontal holes that spanned the doorway courtesy of Starscream, Thundercracker tilted his head at the idling mechs and sent a 'Fix it _now_' message to them. Lazy slaggers. "They are doubling as Constructicons." Seeing how half the original Constructicons were already tiny metal flakes from the electric blast from Egypt they might as well have resigned themselves forever to the jobs of fixing up after their destructive superiors.

They never tidied up after themselves.

Especially Megatron. He was notorious for leaving behind pieces of scrapped metal wherever he went, and Thundercracker didn't even want to _think_ what they used to be before they littered the corridors of their secret base.

The fact that some of them squeaked when trodden on didn't help.

"Oh."

"Oh." Thundercracker agreed.

"Well then," A confused smile. "I hope they make it in time for the wedding, they seemed so enthusiastic to attend it."

That made Thundercracker smile. Even though he still thought most of the humans as annoying, this female was proving herself to be enjoyable company. She was witty and a happy one. Slightly confusing and confused, but generally a lovely female. Samuel Witwicky was lucky to have her as his parental unit.

"Yes," the seeker reassured. "They will."

He was already looking forwards to welcoming Sam in joining the family.

* * *

><p><em>1.35 pm<em>

"Oh for Primus's sake. Hook, restrain him!"

"Y-Yessir!"

A kick to the face. "_Fuck off_."

* * *

><p><em>1.39 pm<em>

A long howl, like an animal dying.

"Boy, shut your mouth!"

"_You'll never make me_."

"Are you sure we can't sedate him?"

* * *

><p><em>1.42 pm<em>

"What are you doing? _Grab him you idiot_."

"I'm trying- _Ahhhhhhh_."

* * *

><p><em>1.45 pm<em>

A grunt and a dive to the side to avoid another dangerous kick "Boy, _why do you persist_?"

"_Because I want to_."

* * *

><p><em>1.50 pm<em>

Hook yowled; nothing was recognizable in the room anymore, including the bride-to-be.

_His art was ruined_.

"Starscream," He screeched. "_Starscream, stop him_!"

A back flip to avoid a drop kick. This was getting ridiculous.

"In case you haven't noticed, Hook, I'm preoccupied _right now_."

"Then un-occupy yourself! If you don't do something soon, he might as well go in naked with how the dress is already _ripping in half_."

As much as Starscream would have loved to see the looks on that fragger's face if that happened, he didn't think the more volatile parties would like that occurring. So sucking in a deep breath he launched himself on the screeching menace tromping around the room.

* * *

><p><em>1.52 pm<em>

"_You can't do this to me_!"

Nursing a bruised jaw, Starscream glared darkly at the screeching human. Unable to speak clearly due to the few teeth that he swore the human had dislocated with his mad mallet skills, he proceeded to leave the rest to Hook and brood in a corner with growing mushrooms.

Hook gulped, even restrained Samuel Witwicky was emitting enough killing intention to choke a dinosaur. Start slow, Hook. Don't enrage the human anymore.

"But you have to be gorgeous for the wedding!"

(Hook lacked subtlety in buckets.)

"Gorgeous? _Gorgeous_?"

Danger. Danger. Danger alert. Desist immediately.

"N- No! I meant beautiful!"

Imminent volcano eruption occurring, source: Samuel Witwicky, catalyst: Hook's idiocy.

"_Beautiful_?"

Hook was going to need a miracle to get out of this one.

"Wait-No-Fine, Fine! Yes, I admit it. I just want you to be beautiful! _Is there something wrong with that_?" That said, the holoform jumped into the air and crashed through the wall running, sobbing about certain people's lack of appreciation all the time.

Starscream stared.

* * *

><p><em>1.57 pm<em>

"Now, Hook," Looming aura of doom and evil crackle. "_Are we going to run away again_?"

"N-No, sir."

Projections of impending _disaster_. "And are we going to fix everything up?"

"Y-Yes, sir."

"_Good_."

"Hey, wait a second," Being tied to a chair in a wedding gown did wonders for your temperament. "Don't I get any say in this?"

Two figures turned around, one pissed off beyond all reason and another scared witless.

"_No_."

* * *

><p><em>2.05 pm<em>

"Hold his hair up, no, not his hand, _his hair_."

This was fast approaching the line between annoying and madness. "I don't see the point of pinning his hair up now, wouldn't it be easier to leave it like before?"

"And give him another opportunity to ruin his hair? _Never_."

Someone was discontent in remaining silent and messed around with like a doll. "Can't you just cut it all off?"

"And leave you looking like a stick?"

That stung his pride a bit. "Hey! I won't look like a stick!"

Was this human questioning _him_? The art master? "You can and you _will_."

Okay, that hurt, Sam wasn't really concerned with how he looked but someone saying that you looked like a stick kind of sucked. Trying to salvage his pride, he rebutted Hook's sniffed out statement with a reply. "Well, it's not as if you can make me look better anyway."

A pause, then a narrow of eyes.

It was personal now.

"_Are you dissing my art_?"

* * *

><p><em>2.15 pm<em>

"Are you fucking insane? _You keep that away from me_!"

"Don't worry boy, it's only earrings!"

"I don't want earrings!"

"Well, you don't have a choice."

Starscream was recording this for blackmail purposes.

* * *

><p><em>2.28 pm<em>

"Hurry up, Hook. We're on a tight schedule."

"Give me a moment Starscream, I'm almost done."

"If you put anymore powder on his face you won't be able to see his eyes anymore." That or someone's eyes would pop out, and possible something else too.

Sam twitched his head despite Hook's very scary expression and multiple warnings and looked at Starscream worryingly. Was there really so much powder on his face?

Wait a second.

"Are you blushing?"

* * *

><p><em>2.35 pm<em>

They were late, "They're going to kill us."

"Shut up, Starscream. It's called being fashionably late."

"They're going to kill us." And dance on their graves.

"Starscream, _shut up_."

Brandishing a whole new wedding dress at the seeker (where on earth did he manage to pull _that_ out from?), Hook glowered at Starscream then turned to his unfortunate prey- I mean, Sam.

Sizing the boy up using his super art skills Hook narrowed his eyes in challenge. If he could make the organic pull this look off, even Soundwave, the stoic slagger, would be smitten and crushed under his superior art skills. That would show all of them the amazing talent that he possessed.

Sam gaped in horrid stupefaction at the dress, was there anything on it that didn't sparkle?

"Can I not wear that?"

"_Shut up_."

* * *

><p><em>2.45 pm<em>

"We're late."

Hook snorted. "If you hadn't taken so long in wearing your shoes, we wouldn't be."

Gesturing angrily at the killer heels they were forcing him to march in, Sam scowled. "These," he pointed "Are not shoes."

"Do I look like I care?"

"You should, if I tripped in this your dress would be ruined. _Again_."

"_You wouldn't dare_." Hook hissed, while Starscream hummed in appreciation. Oh goodie, the boy was learning how to threaten efficiently. He really was going to fit in their dysfunctional little family nicely.

Provided someone didn't squish him first.

The clacks of shoes and heels on marble continued down the long hallway, and finally, in front of a closed door that leaded to ceremony area, Decepticons and human stopped. Hook sniffed, even though he had a terrible time trying to get the boy to calm down and act his age, he was satisfied with his work. It was tough, yes, to prevent a misplaced kick from destroying yet another dress or a pair of heels, but after everything... He daresay that the organic would blow everyone's mind out.

His job being done, the Constructicon turned to regard his unwilling art subject and pursed his mouth. Tweaking the dress a little and replacing a misplace strand of hair, he straightened his back and nodded to Starscream before disappearing in a cloud of static, returning to his metallic frame that was already situated somewhere within the area.

Sam grumbled. He _really_ didn't want to wear the dress.

"Well then, boy, are you ready?"

Looking over at the remaining holoform with him, Sam sulked. The seeker still refused to look at him and was acting rather shiftily.

"What's the point? It's not like I know what on earth's happening anyway. All I gained from that mind trip was that you guys attacked and I was drunk."

Starscream shot Sam a look of incredulity, then shifted his eyes away immediately. Mumbling under his breath about how Hook had done a too-good job on him, he stared at the wall and resumed with the conversation. "What do you mean by that?" he scowled. "Surely you have gained some inclination of what you've done during your sleep."

Sam grimaced. "That's the point, Starscream. I didn't notice anything at all."

The Jet would swear later that he almost had a spark attack at that moment. After all the slag they went through, the brat still hadn't regained his memory?

This was _bad_.

"I suggest you pretend that everything's alright. Do you really want to go in there claiming that you don't remember anything?"

Considering that the other alternative was getting married to some unknown nut job, _yes_.

Almost as if reading his thoughts Starscream shot the miserable boy a warning look. "I wouldn't cause any trouble if I were you. Some old acquaintances with bones to pick are in there waiting for you, and I don't think that they'll humour your episodes."

Now that he put it that way... "Fine. I just wish that I knew who I'm getting hitched to though."

"Well then, that's easily solved." Bracing himself against the massive doors, Starscream gave a strong push, the groaning of the heavy doors betraying the inhuman strength that lay within the frail looking holoform. Light streamed through in a line, embracing Sam within its warm grasp. "You just have to walk in and look to your front."

Walking ahead of the human, Starscream raised his head confidently and beckoned for him to follow him. Not wanting the be left behind, Sam took it as his cue and walked into the unknown, eyes watering slightly as the bright light shined straight into them. The quick muttering within the area stopped at his appearance, and the boy fancied that he heard gasps of surprise.

"_Primus, he's beautiful_."

_Well, that's awkward_.

It was times like this that he had the spiffy super power to pull a mirror out of nowhere, that or melt into the ground. Everyone was staring at him, mech and... Holoform. He highly doubted that any humans, bar his parents (he could see them in a corner waving at him, his dad still confused and his mom practically glowing in joy) was here. Peeking around him through his long bangs (Hook had made them longer again), he took his mystique surroundings. It was fascinating, with the constantly changing colours and the glows that dropped from the sky. If there was one thing that he wouldn't regret during the day, it was that he came to this area and was witnessing a Cybertronian wedding first hand.

It was just that _breathtaking_.

"Sam," Starscream nudged. "Go on, walk to the front and greet your sparkmate."

Right, walk to the front, and greet whoever he was marrying. Timidly shuffling across the glowing floor (somewhere behind him he heard someone, Hook, whisper "Boy, those are heels, _not sleds_."), Sam walked to the front of the area, the crowd parting before him silently. Sighing beside him quietly, Starscream grasped his arm and gently guided him to the front, his longer strides presenting the incentive to walk faster or face plant.

Stopping before another male that did not move with the rest of the crowd, he let go of Sam and pushed him softly to the front. That done he moved to the side of a muscled silver haired male that stood by a clear blue crystal the size of a tree and cleared his throat.

Ignoring the holoform, Sam looked wonderingly at the other one before him. When Hook had said that he wasn't the one wearing the pants in the relationship, he had already suspected that he was somehow getting hitched to another guy (then again, weren't Cybertronian's genderless?); he never expected him to be so good looking though.

Whoever it was before him could give models a run for their money. Sam had discovered that the Cybertronian's were a vain lot in total (none of them took on a plain alt-form, and when holoforms started forming, ho boy.), but this guy was taking the cake. Deep blue eyes stared calmly at him out of a dashingly shaped face, as if committing Sam's figure to memory. Long black hair brushed down shoulders, tied up in a loose knot behind his back; and a form fitting tux covered a lean muscled form. If even his voice was sexy, then Sam had no doubt that this guy was definitely going to get a lot of female admirers.

"Good afternoon, Samuel."

_Oh, yes_, Sam thought, _definitely a shudder worthy voice_.

Now, what was his name?

Taking notice of Sam's sudden problem, Starscream took initiative into his own hands. Clapping his hands to drag attention, he gestured boldly to the two, ignoring the heated glance that was burning into his head.

"Everyone," He called, voice flowing smoothly across the wide hall. "I present to you Samuel James Witwicky and his intended, Shockwave."

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><p>Tik-tok, tik-tok, time was flying by.<p>

How much time did they have until the princess was married to the prince?

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><p>W00T, Exams are over! And now all that is left is to stress over results!<p>

Ain't life grand? Not.

Once again, thank you to those that reviewed and added this story to their fav or alert list. Remember, Wind writes faster with more reviews. Mwa ha ha ha!

Sooo... Who figured out that it was Shockwave Sam was getting married to? People are probably going like wtf right now, and I understand your feelings. It wasn't easy to glimpse what happened in chapter 3. Here's a hint to those that wants to find out what exactly happened instead of waiting for the explanation in the next chapter. Sam didn't get proposed to. _He proposed_. Multiple times... Opps, spoilers.

Bwa ha ha ha. Cybertronian traditions were made up and serve as an important plot device in this story. So expect to see more! Also Cybertronian technology is awesome. Sam's hair got longer because of that!

P.s I was thinking of setting up what happens after the wedding as a sequel. Is that ok, or would you guys prefer me to just continue it here?

Wind of the Dawn out~


	6. Interlude: Shockwave

Disclaimer: Transformers, anything to do with it, and any other characters mentioned in this story do not belong to me in any way, shape, or form. This story is not written or used in any commercial purposes. Basically, I do not own anything!

By: Wind of the Dawn

Interlude: Shockwave

Warnings: Extreme crack, language, slash, and some ooc abound. If you don't like it, then please don't read it. And remember, not all stunts are possible, so **do not** try anything mentioned in here. Aside from that, other dangerous and harmful behaviour/actions should not be tried nor done _anywhere_.

A roar... again: ResultsResultsResults

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><p><em>Love hits you where it hurts, <strong>hard<strong>._

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><p>Decepticon.<p>

Untrustworthy. Brutal. Sly.

If the term were to be in a dictionary, every negative word in the world would fit into the tiny description box down below its bolded terminology, possibly bursting out of the page and spewing onto its unfortunate reader, covering the poor person in pessimistic titles like a vicious attack by a skunk into the face. Absolutely horrid, and mind bogglingly smelly.

Were you in possession of any symbol that would hint at the fact of you being a Decepticon, say a bold red tattoo proclaiming your allegiance to the world (you fail at stealth) or maybe neon red optics (or pink, really. They weren't picky), the general reaction to your appearance would be something along the lines of 'Omg, Decepticon! ShootShootShoot!', and maybe a long soul wrenching wail that would ultimately lead to someone being crushed because they would not wind down, shut up, and run. Hence, due to the populations overwhelming desire to evacuate the hundred mile radius of any Cybertronians with any suspicious markings, even something ridiculous like red flower markings on a yellow chassis accompanied by hot pink eyes (panic caused not one person to conveniently over exaggerate their observation skills), the Decepticons, along with some unfortunately confused mechs, all turned out to be cases of socially retarded Cybertronians with big guns.

And how could you blame them for being that if everyone they tried to talk to automatically assumed that you were trying to rip out their sparks and have them for dinner?

(Shockwave would kill the idiot that spread that rumour. Because of it, the Decepticons never got the chance to have a proper conversation with anyone in _millennia's_; their own troops didn't count because they all were already on the level of silent communication grunts. It didn't help that half of them hated talking anyway.)

That said, being horribly inept at talking to... Oh, just about everything, their main method of interaction had somehow mutated into this weird ritual of shoving your cannon into someone's face, hoping that the fright would induce you into crashing on the floor in a weird shuttering mess, leaving the perpetrator with a few minutes of blessed conversation with something that was not a wall.

You can see where this is going.

Yes, the entire Decepticon campaign could be summarised as a whole bunch of emotionally stunted mechs with the lack of proper manners in seeking for adequate communication and causing grave misinterpretations with their methods. In conclusion? The war was one big giant _misunderstanding_.

(Somewhere in the universe, random unknown mooks that were aware of the truth cried bitter energon tears at the utter stupidity that was the Cybertronian war.)

Proof? Why yes, Shockwave had an abundance of them in his tender care. He didn't doubt that there were _some_ true energon-thirsty warriors in the Decepticon army, but seriously, they were in the minority. Why, before Megatron decided to go off in tangents, even he was just a socially inept person. A very _naive_ socially inept person with the tendency to brood alarmingly. Shockwave would know, he was his long time partner after all.

Yes, yes, he did his job of defending Cybertron well, he was a good leader, and he had an even head on his shoulders; but really, trusting and becoming an apprentice under a suspicious alien relic that dropped out of the sky one day with the alternate form of a skinny toothpick-like mech (coughTheFallencough)? Really?

Shockwave was old. Very old. And not once had he ever seen such idiocy committed. That was something impressive considering that Cybertronians had what the humans termed as the 'photographic memory', and hence could recall every moment of their life. From the day they opened their optics until the day that they closed them, everything would remain crystal clear, and that was a _very_ long period of time.

Not to mention Megatron's utter lack of public relations skills.

It was no wonder that the Decepticons all turned out to be a few screw loose.

That aside though, even being a few clogs less in the head, Shockwave never would have thought that one day he would be getting married to an organic.

The war had screwed with his head. Turned it upside down and filled it with nothing but scientific jargon gained from spending four fifths of his life doing nothing but experiment in a small claustrophobic lab in one of Megatron's random bases with bad lighting. Cybertronian's, bar a few more... unique individuals, had long attention spans, but even if you were capable of replaying various soap opera's in your head to entertain yourself, you quickly turn nutty with nothing but monotonous work to do and a well out of date series of cliché drama put on repeat in your processor.

_Shockwave could still repeat the entire twenty four seasons word by word, and it was still driving him **nuts**. _

It was thus less of a surprise, when as a product of the entire series of events Shockwave turned quickly from quirky to raving insane.

(His inability to properly conduct a conversation didn't help.)

Nevertheless, raving insane didn't mean less efficiency. If Cybertron was not involved in the Decepticon vs Autobots match off that was still continuing (Shockwave doubted that they even remembered their initial reason for sparking off the entire fiasco), Shockwave prided himself in deducing that he would be one pit of an efficient worker. No matter what stood in his way, horrible PR, a giant skunk, life, or a lack of one, he would prevail, as such was his will. It was just that being crazier was a good reduction cause of his already feeble social life. Not that it mattered much.

Really.

So there went his social skills, down the proverbial drain, flushed along by a swirly speed most commonly used to cause extreme nausea and puking all the way.

Goodbye normal citizen, hello socially challenged Decepticon.

...

Thus, Shockwave could honestly claim that it had been completely out of his possibilities calculations, and a proportionally large surprise, when the raid on the Autobots had ended up with him suddenly obtaining a partner for life.

_Illogical. Completely illogical._

His communication skills were rustier than a slab of metal that had spent eons in the bottom of the sea and rougher than a large piece of diamond encrusted sand paper. Forget getting someone interested in him, he couldn't even talk to himself in the mirror!

The fact that he was one of the more, ah, impressively structured (read: terrifying) Decepticons did not contribute positively at all. It just made everyone choose a tactical retreat (read: Run like mad)! So, when a tiny organic, let alone the target of the entire heist, actually had the gall to propose, _propose_, to him, Shockwave was stunned, to say the least.

_Human proposals were generally offered in love. As a conclusion, did the human male feel lingers of affection towards him?_

The entire situation was unfounded. There were absolutely no founding causes that could have started off the entire exchange. Logicality at its lowest, and to a being of cold logic that was unforgivable. But somehow...

Shockwave had found that he had liked it.

Perhaps it was just the sudden rush of the scenario, or maybe the lack of decent conversation that he had always had just decided to spontaneously react with the chaos that reigned within him, but faced with such a ridiculous moment he had suddenly forgone all previous behavioural patterns and had reacted with more emotion. Rebutting, refuting, considering options that were previously not open to him. A whirlwind of choices and not a ledge to hold on to.

It was just so overwhelming, and when everything was over he took further steps in diving down the rabbit hole by agreeing to the organic, Sam's, proposal.

So irrational. So, so, irrational, and somehow Shockwave didn't care anymore. They had just met, and here they were now not one day later getting bonded. A decision without base, and an unwise one by all means of logic. Still... maybe it was for the best, for their meeting was what Shockwave thought of (thought, not theorize, _thought_) as fate, like Romeo and Juliet under the blazing lights and the sparkles of decorated masks. It was like a catalyst for an unstoppable reaction between two unstable chemicals, potentially dangerous with the chance of producing something great, and maybe that was what they were going to be in time.

_Maybe they always had been meant to be together._

Shockwave had never had a chance to love before, but maybe this would finally be the chance for him to crack past his own armour and try, and as he looked at his fate walking down the room towards him, he had a feeling that it wouldn't be hard at all.

_He could already feel himself falling in love._

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><p>AN:

Before you all start roaring about the badly timed interlude again...

So sorry, but Wind thought that it'd be better to separate the more serious part of the chapter and the lighter part of the rest! Never fear though, the rest will be up soon! Mwa ha ha ha!

Once again many thanks to those that reviewed and added this story to their fav or alert list! Wind of the Dawn is very happy with reviews!

Goes off to work on rest of fanfics... Wind of the Dawn out~


	7. Stalling and Realizations

Disclaimer: Transformers, anything to do with it, and any other characters mentioned in this story do not belong to me in any way, shape, or form. This story is not written or used in any commercial purposes. Basically, I do not own anything!

By: Wind of the Dawn

Chapter 5 Stalling and Realizations

Warnings: Extreme crack, language, slash, and some ooc abound. If you don't like it, then please don't read it. And remember, not all stunts are possible, so **do not** try anything mentioned in here. Aside from that, other dangerous and harmful behaviour/actions should not be tried nor done _anywhere_.

A roar: Still stressing about life... On the other hand... Exams were fine!

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><p><em>Stalling for time had never been so embarrassing.<em>

_(And dangerous)_

* * *

><p>Dong, Dong, Dong, Dong.<p>

Trebles of music in the major scale rung out through the vast area with a resemblance to the human marriage song. A bride stood prettily in front of her soon to be husband, veil covered face blushing softly under the glow of the ethereal sky light as her groom eagerly memorized her every contour into his memory, probably paying extra attention to the marriage date so that he will avoid being kicked to the couch a few years later when he forgets the anniversary date. Sniffles of overjoyed and melancholic parents could be heard around the area, their overjoyed weeping and their subconscious reluctance to let their baby go like the sound of a water drop against the background of a heavy downpour.

It was a beautiful wedding in every aspect.

But Sam begged to differ in almost every corner, and if anyone argued with him he would be delighted to introduce them to his bouquet of half dangling roses.

_The poor roses never survived his tantrum of fury in one piece._

For one, the bride was not a bride; His face was certainly not a rosy pink but pallid white. His husband was also most likely _literally_ burning an entire video of the event into his in-built hard drive with pin-point accuracy that only a camera should have; and forget accidentally missing the anniversary date, Sam would be lucky if the stoic male did not constantly remind him about it down to the millisecond every day of their married life.

_Married. _Married_!_

The only portion that was correct with the whole description was the part with the parents crying, minus his dad because he was still kinda standing around with this gob smacked expression on his face and giant robots didn't exactly have parents, and if they did Sam didn't want to know about them, thank you very much.

So, yeah, it was only one person that was sobbing madly because her baby boy was finally leaving the nest in this absolutely ridiculous turn of events.

Sam could already feel a migraine coming up, and it wasn't the type that would go away with a painkiller or two.

_He had to stall for time, because he was soo not getting married to Shockwave._

Damn it, it wouldn't be too late to hope that this was all a dream now, would it?

"Yes."

Looking up in alarm, Sam brandished his previously lowered head wildly in search of the apparent mind reader that had just read through his mind. Good god, did this mean that he would never get privacy from now on? All his thoughts would be played out on an alien version of a wide screen TV for the general amusement of his soon to be neighbours?

_No!_

As usual, following his frantic thoughts, his mouth automatically went on autopilot. "NO!"

A gaggle of discussing mechs turned to look at him curiously. Taking his strong opinion into account of whatever they were seriously considering, they nodded their heads gravely and grunted at a preening Hook whom had somehow managed to sneak all the way through a gaggle of pointy Decepticons to the front. Soaking in the whole conversation the single sound had granted to him through years of intense practise in Decepticon speech, Hook turned and faced the skittish human to deliver the groups decided verdict.

"Very well, Sam," He said, face morphing into this really annoying expression of great suffering and patience. "As per your opinion, I will continue to tailor and dress you in female garments."

Excuse me, _what_? "What? No!"

How on earth did the conversation topic switch _there_?

"No, Sam?" A look of disbelief flashed across Hook's face, highlighting it into something more sinister. "Why? _Is my work not up to your standards_?"

Mind flashbacking into the fateful encounter between Victim!Sam and Don'tDissMyArt!Hook, self preservation skills flared to life and took Sam back by a dozen leaps. Choking as his dress seemingly tried to strangle him into silence, the human meekly looked at Hook and whispered, "No, sir."

"No? Well, it's settled then." Beaming sunnily at the cowering boy, Hook petted his head fondly and skipped away, sensors screaming at him the entire way as Shockwave did a marvellous job on melting his head with his eyes.

Ah, young love.

"Bu-But," Staring as Hook jumped away happily abet a little twitchily for some reason, Sam felt his dignity continue dying as he came to the realization that being stuffed into a dress was not going to stop at a one day occurrence. Once again, he cursed his big mouth; no matter who the recipient was, it seemed to bring him trouble every time he opened it.

Before Sam could fall to deep into the abyss of despair though, a certain mech decided to intervene and manoeuvre his love's attention back to the present occasion. Eyes narrowed over the sudden intervention by Hook's inability to keep still for a moment over his overwhelming need to gloat, Shockwave snarled internally (because if he did so verbally he had a nagging suspicion that his intended would just faint again) and glided over to Sam. Smoothly slipping his hand under the human's gloved one, he brought it up to his lips and kissed it just like in the hundreds of romance movies that he had spent the previous night watching maniacally.

He was greeted by the sight of Sam jumping about five feet into the air.

"Shit!" Sam cursed once he could actually talk without his lungs trying to jump out. His heart attempting to escape his chest into the freedom that waited outside of all the madness, beckoning temptingly with promises of never having to endure such insanity again that made Sam yearn for the chance of joining his organ in a great escape, he glared angrily at Shockwave.

"Don't," He growled. "Ever do _that_ again."

It was creepy enough that he was getting married to an alien, he really didn't need all the romantic gestures to come with it.

Shockwave frowned. Were the millions of notes that he had taken inaccurate? Sam was not exhibiting the expected result of being either coy and blushing, or shy and giggling. In fact, he was currently eying him with much trepidation and slowly creeping away in the monster of a dress he was wearing.

... Perhaps this was the denial phase?

Or maybe he was just playing hard to get.

Just as he was considering changing his behavioural strategy to imitate the suave and charismatic (that would be some problem) heroes in the movies to ramp up the sexual tension of the situation and ultimately get the girl, or in Shockwave's case the boy, despite the fact that he really shouldn't be needing to do this when he was getting married, Sam crossed his hands defensively against his chest and scowled at the holoform. "What?" He called, apparently taking Shockwave's sudden silence as an indication of his disapproval over the human's swearing habits. "I can swear when I want to, you know, you can't stop-"

"Certainly," Not wanting to upset his intended, Shockwave hastened to reassure Sam mid-sentence. Gazing at him with an expression that failed to resemble adoration more than absolute indifference towards life, he tried to smile in a calm manner.

Sam winced at the resulting face presented. It looked like the holoform had eaten too much and was suffering from an intense bout of constipation.

(Shockwave was very _very_ bad at expressing his emotions. It came with the lack of face he usually employed.)

But, you know, since mechs _can't_ go to the toilet, and if they did Sam did not want anyone to educate him on how, that was ridiculous. To rephrase, perhaps Shockwave looked more like someone had shoved something distinctive unpleasant up his nose-

"I would, however, propose that you enlarge your vocabulary as your current one appears insufficient."

Sam turned around and glared in disbelief of the increasingly uncharming mech. Did he just call him _dumb_? "Are you _insulting_ me?"

Shocked over the sudden exclamation and the lack of logic that surrounded it, Shockwave blinked in confusion and queried the human about his enraged question. Surely there must have been an adequate reason for his mate's statement. "I reject that accusation; I am most certainly not insulting you."

The furious bride tossed aside his denial into a river in Egypt and shoved his finger, with great accuracy, into Shockwaves face. "Don't lie to me! I so know that you insulted me, because not everyone just goes around commenting on the 'insufficiency' of their vocabulary, you know, and I'll have you know that it's _really_ rude so you should stop that! Haven't your mother taught you not to insult-"

"Negative. I do not possess a progenitor."

"W-well," Sam spluttered, "Then your _leader_ should have taught you that."

Did his mate even know how absurdly impossible that statement was? Megatron, _teaching_? Perhaps when Primus suddenly decided to drop by for a visit with a moustache gracing his face. That mech was so socially inept that he would just shove your face into a cannon if you asked him, much less asked him to teach you, about manners. In fact, the great overlord might as well have been the poster bot' for a lack of manners!

It was at this moment that Shockwave became aware of something very crucial. His human form gaping at a bewildered Sam with dawning horror, he asked a question that would determine the course of his future married life. "Samuel, are you lacking in the intelligence department?"

_Unknown to Shockwave, he had just sentenced himself to a life on the couch if he really did get married._

Face was climbing to the realm of tomato red with rocket speed, Sam gaped, his body temperature climbing up the scale like a very determined mountain climber. Did this asshole just boldly proclaim Sam's apparent stupidity in front of his face? _Yes_, looking at Shockwave's rock like face Sam seethed like he never seethed before, _yes, he did_.

Opening his mouth to deliver a well placed shriek that would bring the roof down to their ears (shrieking like a little girl ramped up on a balloon of helium was one of Sam's many specialties), Sam was just preparing to directly assault someone's ears when a massive, and when Sam meant massive he meant gorilla size, palm slapped down with bone crushing force onto his mostly bare shoulder.

Sam whimpered. He could have sworn that he heard a crack.

Timidly looking up at the owner of the hand that had just delivered a kung fu-ish smack down to his aching shoulder, he was greeted with the sight of an extremely scowly face that was accompanied with a body that looked with a brick wall. Not that the body actually resembled a wall with the oozing cement and parallel lines, but _damn_, the man looked like he ate metal for breakfast!

Then again, knowing the Decepticons, it was probably true.

"Boy," _Good grief_, why did every one of them have to have industrial vats of chocolate melting voices? It didn't help that they all also looked like they just walked out of an advertisement for the modelling season, completed with bishie sparkles. "Cease your need to defuse the situation through unsuitable means, it is inappropriate behaviour."

Sam was treating his nagging suspicions of hearing this particular voice somewhere before, and not in a good way, when the offered advice (order) halted him. Gazing up hesitantly at the towering giant, he pondered on the absurdity of the situation. First he was getting married and stuffed into a dress, and now he was getting parental like advice from a Decepticon?

Either the world was going mad, or Sam was.

He was leaning towards the latter.

"And what makes you think that you can just order me around like that?" Sam asked, not comfortable around figures of authority that somehow, for some reason, _really liked_ to either force Sam into suspicious vans (Sector 7) or make him play tag with giant raving robots (William Lennox).

Especially the robots. Playing with those with no homicidal tendencies was one thing, purposely tugging on the rabid ones tail is another vastly different matter.

Deadly too.

Anyway, back on the matter.

Mister buff was giving him an impressive glare. "You will listen as I command, _boy_."

_Ok_. Ok. Sam really wanted to know who was this jerkass was now. Who did he think he was coming and interfering between him and stoic-groom's argument? Didn't he know the meaning of privacy? Sam was fairly certain that if pre-married parties were having sudden doubts in the direction of their lives, they were entitled to some sort of squabble, _in private_.

"Assumption: Negative. Samuel Witwicky: Guarded at all times in close proximity to ensure safety."

What? _What_?

"Query: What part of answer has been misunderstood?"

Utilizing a rapid pirouette, Sam turned magnificently in his supremely heavy wedding gown to stare in horror at his new guest. Did he just...

The newly appeared mech and holoform both gave barely noticeable nods. If possible, they were also even more stoic than Shockwave. In fact, they were so implacable that if Shockwave resembled a rock with the occasional erosion that caused disturbing expressions, the new mech was the atoms that made up air.

_Completely imperceptible_.

"Are you a ninja?" Sam blurted out, mind frizzing over previously ignored possibilities that had suddenly returned with a vengeance. "You know, the ones in that show that always airs on TV with the random powers and all that jazz. Cause' I'm certain that you just read my mind or maybe I'm _really_ going insane now-"

Another tediously flat nod. "Monologue: Correct. Soundwave: Telepathical communicator."

Sam's facial expression clearly expressed his thought of 'Bwa?' to the world.

Soundwave's tentacles (oh god, _tentacles_) wiggled about slightly, possibly in annoyance over the human's slow grasp on the turning world and his words. "Translation: Mind reader."

* * *

><p><em>Fit in process.<em>

_Estimated completion time: Unknown_

_We thank you for your patience and understanding._

* * *

><p>Panting like he just finished a ten kilometre run, Sam's eyes bulged intensely as new realisations steamrolled his now completely exposed mind pathetically into the ground. There went his expectations of normalcy. There went his life's hope of not meeting anymore funny (or unfunny) business. There went his basic expectation of general Decepticon decorum, because obviously <em>they didn't have any<em>.

Ignoring the Decepticons disturbed expressions that were caused by his second spazz of the day; he wildly flung his head around and seeked out the newest and most unforgivable bane of his life.

(Or maybe the third most unforgivable bane of his life, the second being himself because as luck would have it anything wrong in his life was somehow always concocted by him, and the first being the person that decided to toss him down this path.)

_Somewhere far far away, a certain someone sneezed loudly._

There was no privacy. Absolutely none. Nil. Nada. And Sam could very much not take any of this nonsense anymore than he could fly. Once upon a time, he would have wanted such excitement, after all, what little boy wouldn't. But now? Now that he was older and held a lesser resemblance to an utter hellion, Sam would like to declare to he had less of a desire to meet the supernatural, especially if they were riffling through his brain.

_His life, his memories, his secret crushes and deep dark secrets! Nooooooooo-_

"Soundwave," Admiring the way Sam's wedding gown still managed to cling to him perfectly despite his rabid jumping (really, how was it even _possible_?), Mr Muscle turned and gestured sternly at his fellow Decepticon to demand an answer. "Explain his behaviour."

Soundwave's holoform, another dashing male with logic defying hair of lilac and spiffy spikes, turned to the looming giant and crinkled his unfeeling eyes (not that anyone could tell the difference). Sending out his telepathic tendrils subtly into the raving bride's mind, he attempted to scope out the needed information to form an acceptable answer for the other holoform. Confident in his success (he had never failed once; unless Blaster, the insufferable mech, was somehow in the planet's vicinity, which was unlikely because Soundwave had personally provided him with incentive to avoid this particular area for the time), the telepath was noticeably disturbed when his tendrils (coughtentaclescough) failed to do so.

"Impossible," The stunned holoform murmured. Surely his abilities would be able to...

"Soundwave?" A sharp tone of impatience and the silent demand for a reply, _now_.

Conflicting emotions flashed rapidly across the emotionless mech's face. This was impossible, Soundwave _never_ failed. Failure was undignified, failure was unthinkable, failure was... was... was for Starscream!

_Comparing himself, loyal officer of Lord Megatron, to the back-stabbing traitor? _

_**Unacceptable**._

Much as he wanted to deny the circumstance though, Soundwave had to answer, or risk getting his face shoved into the wall.

The Decepticons were a rough bunch.

"Soundwave," He gritted out, facial expression making another bunch of curious Decepticons trip over their own feet when they saw the implacable mech actually have an actual change to his face. It was like seeing trees suddenly getting up and speaking to you. It was flabbergasting. "_Incapable_"

The amount of self-loathing and disbelief that coated that tone of voice was enough to fill the ocean twice over, and that was how much shame Soundwave felt when he failed that simple request. It wasn't even a ridiculously hard request, it wasn't like he was asked to go and hack into Optimus Prime's processor while he was surrounded by Blaster (that insufferable mech), the twins (the menaces), Ratchet (the overlord), Jazz (the Primusdamnedsneakysonnova), Prowl (stick up the aft), Ironhide (that absolutely infernal trigger happy glitch), and various other groups of pit-damned Autobots capable of shooting his servo off while Soundwave himself was a foot directly in front of the Prime himself.

Yes, it was nothing unattainable like that.

Not that Soundwave would not do his damnest to achieve what his lord wanted. It was just that he'd probably end up mostly as scrapped metal than not, and how could he possibly serve his lord as a pile of junk? Hmm... This was actually a thought to ponder. How _could_ Soundwave serve in such a condition? He was a firm believer in not wasting resources so surely even as a pile of tin he could still be of some use.

... Perhaps he could hound the Autobots into submission by being a ghost?

A solid cuff to the shoulder pulled the telepath away from his tripping thoughts and into the unfortunate grip of reality. Looking up guiltily (which was surprisingly effective at turning his surroundings into a gibbering mesh of terror due to the sheer impossibility of Soundwave _actually having_ something other than dull surprise on his face), he stared at his fellow mech. Much as he wanted to continue giving bunny kicks to his thoughts, the glare he was receiving convinced him very credibly that anymore delays would result in his whole body flying through the sky roof and he wouldn't be getting down anytime soon.

"Soundwave," The poor mech felt like he was dying inside from shame. "Incapable of penetrating human's thoughts."

Looking like someone had just decided to pee on his freshly polished feet, Mr Muscle arched his perfectly shaped eyebrows and grasped Soundwave's previously neat collar. Looming down at him from his clearly superior height, he growled. "_Impossible_."

Soundwave wanted to agree, but despite not having to breathe he found himself slightly hindered by his neck in a collar choke. "Soundwave: Not lying" He choked out feebly.

"_You lie_, Soundwave. Now, before I find it in myself to permanently eliminate you, _tell me the truth_."

Soundwave was finding it challenging to speak without a convenient source of air. "Soundwave: Not lying. Human: Thoughts disjointed. Understanding: Extremely limited"

Mr Muscle flexed his twitching muscles (Sam distantly wondered how on earth did he manage to get a suit that didn't rip when he decided to flex those boulders of muscles he had) and narrowed his eyes threateningly. It was as clear as the day that he did not appreciate the thought that a human was beating his kind in any field. "Ridiculous, Soundwave. You must be addled in the processor; there is no convincible way that a mere human can resist your telepathic skills."

If Soundwave could have preened in the current moment, he would have. Sadly, his holoform was fast approaching the state of asphyxiating, and even though he wouldn't necessarily die from that, it would still throw his processor into a loop with plenty of defragment to do. Not daring to actually lay a hand on the enraged holoform, he winced (and got a gasp of utter horror from the others), and then wondered what was wrong with everyone in the Decepticon army. Settling for a more soothing approach in breaking the news (Mr Muscle was going to burst a non-existent blood vessel), he wheezed out what he was able to grasp from the boy's mind. "Samuel Witwicky: Thoughts disjointed. Available data phrases: No, Secret, Privacy, Room, Dress, Bane, Chicken. Concluding thought: No, the secret bane of my life has been revealed to be a dress wearing chicken intruding upon the privacy of my room. Estimated accuracy: -56%."

A disbelieving roar, "An accuracy of _negative fifty six percent_?"

"Yes," Who would even believe that the cause of the brat's tantrum was a dress wearing chicken prancing in his room being a nuisance? Even if Decepticons sometimes lack common sense, they weren't _that_ ignorant of human culture.

Besides, chickens didn't wear dresses.

It didn't come in their sizes and shape.

Mr Muscle was starting to show a distinct disrespect to the ceremony by roaring unstoppably. "_Why can you not enter the boy's mind_?"

"Soundwave," Even facing the threat of strangulation, familiar speech patterns were still a must in Soundwave's book. "Unclear."

Just when Soundwave's neck looked really to snap within Mr Muscle's inhumanely buff hands, the most unlikely mech to remark on the situation suddenly sighed loudly and interposed himself between the rapidly demising 3rd in command and the enraged holoform. Perhaps it was the pure stupidity of the situation or the lack of poise the Decepticons were supposed to have in face of more... less worthy beings, but Starscream had finally had enough and wanted to offer a theory of his own.

"Lord Megatron," Starscream said, distantly processing the gleeful fact that the boy had finally stopped screeching _again _in favour of gaping in terror at the High Lord Protector. "Has it, perhaps, ever occurred to you that because the boy is human and a different species altogether from us, his mind may be structured differently and hence impossible for telepaths to access?" Honestly, did they even think?

Initially angry, then surprised by the actual validity of Starscream's unexpected contribution to the heated debate (one that left a twitching pile of half-dead holoform on the ground), Megatron looked suspiciously at his frequent back-stabber of a lieutenant. This sudden helpfulness was an ambush, he was sure of it. It might have seemed like a very honest and innocent consideration, but Megatron was certain that within this whole convoluted scheme was another attempt to usurp his position.

_Starscream had called so many times wolf that no one believed him anymore, even if they could sometimes see suspicious mooks or logic creeping around_.

(The Decepticons were a suspicious bunch. Even the blank spots on the wall were to be distrusted by them, which actually was a good habit because you never knew when Mirage was creeping around annoying them, or Primus forbid _Jazz_)

"Starscream," The tyrant purred, his voice a large red contradiction against the form he was currently inhibiting. "Why so helpful?" _Are you plotting against your leader again? Perhaps my opinion on doing so has not been ingrained within your processor yet?_

"Why no, Lord Megatron. Your humble servant is merely pointing out a possible gap in your theories." _I'm pointing out the facts that you are too incompetent to consider. Honestly, you call yourself the leader of the Decepticons?_

"How... kind of you, Starscream. You will elaborate, of course." _I will make sure you regret this you petulant mech. For now, you will explain yourself or face the wrath of my fusion cannon to your pitiful servo._

"I am always happy to serve, my lord. The lack of success Soundwave faced in investigating the boy's mind is most likely due to the fact that the human mind is differently structured from Cybertronian ones. While we mechs process information through a constant stream of data and nodes, they think through nerves and signals. It is incompatible with the third-in-commands abilities." _You're absolutely useless without me, and to think you call yourself the supreme leader of the Decepticons. Soundwave's complete failure was the result of him stupidly trying to hijack an _organic _mind. As the humans say, news flash, our computerized skills are highly incompatible in trying to access organic items. It's not like the boy walks around with his thoughts neatly shelved in tiny little boxes that labelled from A - Z. It'd more likely resemble a black hole to us, and good luck finding anything from that you pathetic mech whom is more low ranking than I._

Soundwave gave out a moan of protest from the ground at that one; this was just mean, insulting the downed mech. Meanwhile, Megatron glared at the huffed up Starscream, once more feeling the urgent need to introduce his face to his fist. Insulting Megatron around the privacy of their troops was one thing (there was nothing to hide, they practically a family of whackos anyway), but when there were other viewers around? Around them, the humans blinked in confusion (or remained catatonic), while the Decepticons gloated proudly over the fine art of conversation that they had perfected.

_Ah, the glory of silent communication... Wait till they experienced the silent grunts!_

And just like the two warring mech's heard them, the _true_ silent communication started.

_Come on_, Starscream silently goaded with a tip of his head. _Hit me, Megatron. Show everyone (the boy) your true temperament._

Megatron narrowed his eyes warningly. _Do not tempt me, Starscream. I may suddenly find it in myself to end your existence, painfully._

_So you say, Lord Megatron. So you say. But we all know that you won't do it anyway._

Bristling at the slur against him, Megatron growled, a deep trembling noise that echoed throughout the vast room. _Starscream..._

Knowing a losing battle when he faced one, Starscream raised both his hands in surrender and walked face forwards into the lingering crowd, face carved in a mocking smile all the time. _My apologies, Lord Megatron_, his sardonic smirk conveyed,_ hit me if you will but be warned that there are others watching_.

Clenching his fists tightly, Megatron ascertained to the statement. Oh, how he wanted to lunge at the mouthy Seeker and rip off his wings. To ensure that such impudency would not manifest itself again. But no, not now when there was too much at stake. No, everything had to proceed smoothly, and besides... -The supreme leader of the Decepticons gave one Judy Witwicky a very nervous glance- there was another threat of great calibre within the area this day.

_A mother's wrath was very scary indeed._

"Fine," Megatron snarled, breaking the long silence and taking the losing side for the moment. "_Fine_."

_It's not over yet._

Another nod of the head. _Of course_

Turning around to face the rest of their nosy audience once more (it was like watching a giant ping-pong match between two humongous and terrifying players, captivating and something you absolutely could not turn away from, regardless of potential warlords screaming at you later), Megatron was just beginning to unleash his roar of annoyance upon them when an unexpected communications link disturbed him. Latching onto it in instinct while raising his firewall to the maximum (small mistakes often made one _dead_), his face crinkled into an unattractive scowl when he noticed that it was _Starscream_ that was requesting for a private communications session.

:: What? ::

:: Not that I want to anger you any further Lord Megatron, but I _am_ curious ::

Curious? About what? :: Get to the point, Starscream ::

:: It is unlike you to act in a benevolent manner without some sort of advantage in for yourself, so why on earth have you agreed for this wedding to progress in peace? ::

Oh ho, so he _did_ notice. There was a reason why Megatron still kept the seeker as his second despite his back-stabbing tendencies, which could get quite annoying, and that was because unlike the other Decepticons within his army, the flyer was quite happy to point out the flaws and question Megatron anywhere and anytime he liked. He might have found it annoying, true, but there was nothing like a pest like Starscream that could keep him sharp on his already pointy toes. Furthermore, the screechy mech was also one of the greatest scientific minds in the universe, and that often proved to be quite a boon to his plans.

Of course, he was also Megatron's favourite punching bag, but that was another tale for another day.

:: Lord Megatron :: Impatience and curiosity at its greatest :: If you would answer my question? ::

To do or not to do. Did he have to ask? Of course it was ...

:: No ::

Enjoying the look on the fuming seekers face, Megatron gave out a low chuckle. Hand poised elegantly beneath his chiselled chin, he mused darkly. Let Starscream find out the answers for himself. Even though he appeared mostly stupid and erratic, he was actually of intelligent sort, and Megatron would look forwards to seeing how smart he was.

Well then, it seemed like he had had this conversation to a bit too long. Moving to address his less than welcome spectators, Megatron turned once again to impose himself upon the urgency and importance of the situation in a midst of speed.

Unfortunately, he wasn't watching his feet and although he was several times more heavy and agile than the normal human, the supreme ruler of the Decepticons still found himself rudely seated on his back on the floor with a loud thump.

A deadly silence spread across the area.

Somewhere else a herd of elephants cried.

It was just that scary.

"_Who_," The enraged tyrant snarled out, "_Was the one that decided to cover the entire floor with flowers_." And true enough, the entire floor of the area was mysteriously covered by whole and scattered heads of various flowers.

_He was going to enjoy _gutting_ the fool that did this._

As expected, none of the nitwits surrounding him dared to confess or point fingers, fearing wrath knocking on their door with hammers. No matter, Megatron was efficient and sooner or later (he was betting on the first) he would find the perpetrator. And then...

:: Lord Megatron, we are- :: Words from a sudden link outside not finished, a loud thump echoed in the room. Next, a crack started forming on the wall, winding down like that particularly complicated drawing that Megatron had seen humans gushing over before. Then, like an overfilled dam breaking apart, the cracks in the wall crashed open in two, just like the overdramatic entrances you usually see in movies. The growls of engines filled the hall, and shadowy figures stepped out from in front of the faint silhouettes of cars, forming out of the wisps of smoke that riddled the air.

_Time might have laughed at our attempts, but in the end we succeeded._

A faint ray of light shined down from the hole in the wall and illuminated the first figure that stepped in the still hall. Surrounding the figure like a loving embrace, the male looked like he was wearing a robe of light. Pure blue eyes looked out, seeking for the precious treasure they had came to find.

From behind all the stunned Decepticons, a bride clothed in dazzling white gazed across the distance that spanned between him and the mythical arrival. When their gazes met (Shining blue and soulful chocolate), a link of eternity started to build, spanning across time and space. Deliriously happy, Sam opened his mouth to call out to his friend. "Bumble-" But before he was even finished, someone interrupted him.

Big-time.

Extremely annoyed that the wedding hall was now sporting a gigantic hole as decoration, and angry over the fact that someone had the _gall_ to disturb _their_ wedding, a certain mono-optic mech's holoform decided to nip all trouble in the bud before it decided to grow into forest.

"Autobots," Shockwave called, arms encircling the slender body of his soon to be mate possessively. "You are too late."

Struggling over the unwanted hug, Sam looked up at Shockwave in confusion, and maybe something a little like dawning horror. "Wha-"

"I have already deflowered my mate."

You could hear a pin drop in the ensuing silence.

Various states of horror and denial spanned across the hall, including several of the Autobots that just stepped through the hole. Samuel Witwicky looked like he was about to vomit out blood.

Megatron?

Megatron was amused. He always knew Shockwave was effective, but really, how on earth did he do so in such a short manner of time?

* * *

><p>AN

Bzzzt.

Sorry for the late update...

Dawn went on a holiday and then fell slightly sick desu!

Thank you once again to those that updated and added this story to their fav or alert list!

On the other hand, my exams went fine!

But... I just realized that I might need to get my wisdom tooth out...

Sob


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